#YES HELLO I REALLY ENJOYED THE RINGS OF POWER SO I HAVE TO WRITE FICS ABOUT IT

[paperxcrowns]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power (TV 2022) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Elrond Peredhel & Ereinion Gil-galad, Elrond Peredhel & Galadriel Characters: Elrond Peredhel, Ereinion Gil-galad, Galadriel (Tolkien) Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Episode: s02e08 Shadow and Flame (The Rings of Power), Hurt Elrond Peredhel, Elrond Peredhel Needs a Hug, Survivor Guilt, Panic Attacks, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Post-Canon, Aftermath of Violence, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Exhaustion, Hopeful Ending, no beta we die like men Summary:

They do not vanquish or push back the Uruks— even with the arrival of the Dwarven army. Their numbers are too low, the losses too significant, the city too far gone. They simply push back long enough to get every remaining Elf out of Ost-in-Edhil.

Elrond remembers crossing the dry riverbed, his boots sinking deep in the black mire, staring at a battlefield of dead Elves. The weight of their deaths makes him lightheaded and he staggers as grief spears his heart so suddenly it steals his breath.

 Or; following the fall of Eregion, Elrond struggles with guilt and grief.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 5

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw.

one. two. three. four.

Five. 五

Donaka's house is beautiful, and it’s a pleasure to be in, even though you’re constantly working at this or that task to keep it immaculate. You don’t mind the honest work. It’s satisfying in a way working on a computer never was, more immediately gratifying than teaching, and certainly less heartbreaking than writing ever was. 

Sometimes you take a moment to just sit and enjoy the ambiance in his rooms, but by far your favorite space in the house is the library. Built in bookshelves line the walls, an antique table sits in the center, and a circle of comfy leather chairs sit by the window. You’ve taken to spending some of your breaks in there, reading this or that for the fifteen minutes allotted. 

You are reaching for a book on a high shelf, just out of your reach, when a much longer arm seemingly appears out of nowhere over your head, plucking down the volume easily. 

You didn't even hear Mr. Mark enter the room. Usually, he’s at work at this time of day, though you’ve noticed he’s been home more lately. You gasp and turn, finding him standing close enough that you feel the warmth emanating from his body. He’s like a furnace.

He enjoys sneaking up on you. There’s nothing he wants more, than to push you back against the shelves and take you, but he is a patient predator. He settles for just handing you the book with a lifted eyebrow. You take it absently, wondering if you are in trouble. It’s impossible to tell, from his impassable expression.

"Hello, Mr. Mark," you say softly. 

He smirks at your timid greeting, delighted with this development. He’s known for days, of course, that you were coming in here. He didn’t really mind–you were always careful with the books, reverent in the way you handled them, even the newer tomes that could be easily replaced. 

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks sardonically, implying that you should be cleaning something, rather than looking at his books on Chinese art. 

"Yes. I'm...on my break," you are quick to explain. 

Donaka lets his gaze slowly and openly travel over you. He can’t help but find you beautiful, even in your unassuming black dress and white apron, your hair swept back neatly. 

He takes a half-step closer to you, leaning against the bookshelf, caging you in with his broad frame. “You should use this time to take refreshment. Why are you so unkind to your body?” he scolds, annoyed that you do not treat yourself as well as he thinks you should. 

You frown a little, clutching the book to your chest like a shield. He inwardly scoffs at this, finding the thought that a book between you could save you from him. 

"I...didn't want to risk getting food on your books," you admit, annoyed that he seems to think he can control what you eat and drink too. Chill out, man. Even you are smart enough to let that die unsaid on your tongue. 

“Very kind of you,” he deadpans. You do not miss the dry sarcasm in his tone, and you realize you have made a mistake, thinking you could just come in here and be alone with the smell of old paper for a little while. But now you’re stuck with this book in your hands, which you can’t put away without his help. Your quick escape is thwarted.

“How about this,” he proposes, tilting his head. “You can come in here in the evening, any time you want. But right now, you should go have a cup of tea, and a healthy snack.” No potato chips, practically rings out unsaid between you. 

“That’s very generous of you, Mr. Mark,” you say, not happy with this offer at all. Maybe you could do worse, than your handsome employer taking an interest in your health, and offering to share his books with you. But there’s more to it beneath the surface, something darker, controlling. You sense it more than you could prove it.

You wonder how often he would find his way in here, if you started spending your evenings in one of those oversized leather chairs, curled up with a book… You can’t help but look at the table next. That sturdy fucking table, such a debauchable surface, if he were to grab you up and pin you down there…

Stop stop stop. 

You can’t stop. Not your thoughts, at least. Your feet, however, are ready to go. 

He is searching your face with that sharp gaze that sees everything. He doesn’t look pleased, almost as though he knows you’re not going to come in here again unless you are cleaning. 

Hoping to distract him before he can concoct something else, you hand him back the book to re-shelve, since you clearly can't reach it.

He accepts it, his eyes never leaving your face, but his fingers brushing yours. It feels like an electric shock, when he touches you, and that predictable rush of heat floods your body, from the tips of your fingers to your treacherous, aching, center. 

It’s almost as though you have no sense of self-preservation at all. 

"Thank you, Mr. Mark." You sidle around him, thinking about how you’re always fleeing the rooms he's in. It's almost becoming a comedic bit between you–but you’re not laughing, as you feel his hungry eyes on your back as you go.

“Y/n?”

You were so close to escaping. 

“Sir?” you ask timidly, turning slowly in the doorway.

“Tell Mrs. Wong I’ll have my tea early today. Bring it to me on the terrace.”

There is a single beat during which you consider reminding him you’re on your break still, and that’s not usually your duty around the house. The impulse evaporates as he fixes you with that dark stare, and you dare not defy him further. 

“As you like, sir.”  

He inclines his head with a little smirk, as though to say, ‘See how it goes for you when you defy me?’ All in all…you feel like you got off pretty easily. That is, until you are bringing him the tray with his beautiful burnished earthenware yi xing teapot, and some little dishes filled with dried fruit and nuts. They do look tasty, you have to admit, but that’s neither here nor there for you now. 

The terrace is cloistered by greenery, a pool beside it filled with flowing-finned koi carp. In the distance one can see the blue glitter of the sea. It really is a view fit for a king, and even though you still don’t really know a thing about Donaka Mark other than he is wealthy and ridiculously good looking, you are happy for him. 

You set down the tray without making a sound, and he smirks at you as you bow your head, making to flee once more. “Sit down,” he orders, in the guise of a polite invitation. You recognize it immediately for what it is. 

“Sir…” 

You don’t know why the thought of staying with him twists you up in knots inside. Perhaps simply because you want to, even while knowing it is not your place to do so. 

“Sit,” he says again, and with a sigh you do as you’re told, perching on the edge of the chair. It’s incredibly peaceful, in this place. The sound of the fountain tinkling beside you, the salt-tinged breeze coming off the water beyond…for a moment, you close your eyes, perhaps because you can feel his gaze boring into you. You’re not entirely sure what’s happening between the two of you, but that little instinct deep inside that is rarely wrong–and you rarely listen to…is sounding the alarm. 

“This teapot is two-hundred years old,” he tells you, pouring a cup. Your eyes go a little wide, as you think about the heritage you’d unwittingly carted across the house in your two little hands. It must be very valuable. “It makes an exceptional cup of dark oolong.” 

As he sets the cup in front of you, as well as the little dish of dried fruit and nuts, you know you resemble one of those open-mouthed carp in the pond in your surprise. “Another auction-house conquest?” you dare ask. 

“Something like that. It was not cheap.” 

Your lips twist as you attempt to keep your wry comments to yourself. As usual–you fail. “Do me a favor and don’t tell me what you paid for it, if I have to carry it back to the kitchen.” 

He chuckles quietly at that. “You think it was a waste of money?”

“No, there are definitely worse things to waste your money on.” 

You realize a beat later that your comment sounded far more specific than you meant it to, your personal prejudices making their way out the cracks of your armor.

Lucky you, he seems amused by this, though you can’t help but wonder if it’s a trap when he asks, “Oh? Like what?” 

“I didn’t mean you specifically…” 

The flash of his smile is like a baring of teeth; you are equally mesmerized as you are mortified. Is this what the little deer feels, a moment before it is snatched up in the jaws of the tiger?

“Yes you did. Come on, tell me.” 

“I’d rather not.”

“Playing hard to get as usual. Is it my art collection?” 

“No,” you answer immediately. 

“My beautiful house?”

“No,” you reply again in earnest. 

“My clothes?” 

No, you rather like those too. You simply shake your head, wishing, as usual, that you could run away, or turn back time, and shut your fat fucking mouth. 

“Hmm. What’s left? Ah, it’s my cars.” 

You are practically writhing in your seat, as he hits this nail on the head. 

“Absolutely none of my business, sir.” 

“Of course it’s not, but where’s the fun in that?”

You sense the fun in this for him is making you sweat. 

“So go on? What’s wrong with them? Lamborghini not to your taste?” 

You take a sip of tea, closing your eyes momentarily to appreciate the flavor. It really was wonderful, bitter yet somehow silky on the back of the tongue. Enjoy it now, you think–he’s going to fire you in five seconds. 

“Well. If they make you spend that much…” you deadpan, “You’d think they’d at least have the decency not to make them so ugly.”

For a moment you think you are dead–not fired, but soon to be murdered–until a bark of laughter escapes this usually so-severe man, the flash of his white teeth startling in the sunlight. “I’ll be sure to tell them you said so,” he retorts, saluting you with his cup of tea, before taking a sip. “Though you might feel differently, if you’d let me give you a ride.” 

You freeze for a moment while reaching for a peanut. He meant in his car you deranged dumpster fire of a woman. 

“I’m sure…its performance is bar none,” you answer diplomatically. You see his smirk out the corner of your eye, and you feel your ears burning.

“So tell me, my little housekeeper with all the big opinions. If you had my money, what would you spend it on?” 

His money? As usual, you can’t tell if he is baiting you with the subtle choice of his words. You sigh, taking a piece of dried fruit. You think for a few moments, though it doesn’t take long.

“Honestly? The same thing I’m doing now.”

He chuckles at this. “You like cleaning my house that much?”

“It’s not bad.” Despite the probable ulcer developing from living in proximity to this tempting man. “But when my work visa expires in six months, I’m going to travel again.”

Donaka’s expression sharpens immediately at hearing this, his brows pulling in a frown. “You’re leaving us so soon?”

“I…told your assistant, in the interview. It wasn’t a secret.”

Donaka still glowers at you, and you can’t help but feel like you did something wrong. But he wrangles his emotions, whatever they may be, into a neutral expression. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You are obviously overqualified for this position.”

“I am educated, but I don’t really feel like that qualifies me for much of anything.”

He lifts an eyebrow at that, and you sense he is still annoyed with you. “What about your writing?”

You shrug, even while it feels like a knife delivered to your chest. “It’s never come to anything.”

“How hard did you try?”

You trace the rim of your little tea cup, gnawing at the inside of your cheek. 

“Enough to break my heart one more time than I could take,” you admit, suddenly feeling raw under his piercing gaze. Rejection is wearing. So is pouring your soul into something that only amounts to very little when you were foolish enough to hope. You’ve never managed to turn anything you enjoy into a money making endeavor. It always makes you feel like you’re dying inside. 

 Donaka, however, seems less than sympathetic. “You shouldn’t give up.”

You shrug, ready to change the subject. It’s not like you’ve stopped writing. You’re just not writing anything that can ever see the light of day. “I will take that under advisement.”

He narrows his eyes, like he doesn’t believe you’re taking him seriously. “You know what your problem is?”

“Would you like a list?”

“Very funny. But I think you’ve never truly been afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“Exactly. I can tell. I think you’re intelligent, and maybe you’re tough, but you’ve never been to the edge of survival. There’s something about your contempt for the display of wealth that makes me think you come from it. You’re content with mediocrity because you know if you have to, you can always run home to mommy and daddy. You have a safety net that keeps you lazy.”

You blink at that. It’s maybe half true, though you would rather eat roadkill than go home to your father with your hand out.  “I’m not…lazy.”

“Of course you are. You’re certainly not realizing your fullest potential.”

This hurts way more than it should. Maybe…because he’s not wrong. This man has an edge of danger to him–it wouldn’t surprise you at all, to learn he’s a self-made millionaire. Maybe he had a rough childhood, and climbed over anyone he had to, to get where he is. Good for him. You wonder vaguely who he’s hurt along his journey to the top. Deep down, you know men don’t get where Donaka Mark is without someone paying a price. 

“Maybe not. But not everyone wins the big jackpot in life. I’m content with where I am now.”

“For now? And where will you go from here?” 

“India, I think.”

“Why?”

“There are still things I want to see.”

“Why?”

“Why not? Because I want to. Because I can. Why do anything in this pointless existence?” You are careful not to raise your voice to him, though your heart gallops in your chest like you are having an argument. The yawning void of your old friend nihilism opens up before you, a black hole you know well but haven’t had to contend with for a while.  

His lips curl for you, though it is not a nice smile. “You lack a sense of purpose.”

He’s not wrong, though you don’t think he understands you as well as he thinks. You find the endless march of humanity perpetuating itself tiresome and destructive. You find the rat race pursuit of wealth for the sake of winning a pissing contest exhausting. The hypocrisy of religion has never appealed to you. On the whole, you find homo sapiens to be a sad and ridiculous species with a few bright spots, but unfortunately you are one, you’re stuck here, and you have to find something to do with your time until you check out.

Usually you’re content in your own little world, trying not to harm anyone…but he flips this switch for you in two seconds flat, and you find yourself clenching your jaw as the weight of it crushes you down. You have to admit this was not how you expected this day to go. Silly you, for thinking you could just sit down with a book for ten minutes unbothered.

He pours himself another cup of tea, pretending that he doesn’t notice you’re stewing in an existential crisis while sitting across from him. “I could change that for you, you know.”

Confused and unsettled, which is probably exactly what he intended to do to you, you shift in your chair. Is he propositioning you? Or is he talking about something else entirely? You feel like a low-level current is running through your bone marrow, slowly cooking you from the inside. 

You’re not sure if he’s asking you to be his mistress–or to join a cult. Maybe it would be nearly one and the same.

From the flashing look in his eyes, you don’t think he expected you to laugh at him. It’s the only way you can get up the courage to say this to his face: “Respectfully…no one says that unless they’re trying to evangelize you into something, Mr. Mark.”

His lips dance as he smirks at you. “But you are above manipulation, Miss y/n?” 

“Probably not,” you admit, suddenly nervous all over again about where this is heading. Why does every conversation you have with this man have to feel like a fucking chess game? “Though I like to think…I am somewhat aware, at least.” 

“Being aware of manipulation is not the same as being immune to it, believe me.” Again he smiles wide enough to flash teeth, and you can tell he is truly enjoying himself now. “Can you really say that wealth doesn’t interest you? I don’t buy it.” 

“The ostentatious display of wealth doesn’t interest me,” you grumble, flashing back to the hellish court-ordered summers you once spent at your father’s tasteless mansion with your insufferable half-siblings always crowing about their latest couture conquests. 

“Ah. That’s why you hate the Lambo.” 

“No, I really do think it’s ugly.” It maybe feels too good to tell him so, after he was so brutally honest to you. However, you can tell immediately that you fail to hit your mark. He lifts his eyebrows, seemingly amused by your agitation, his dark eyes shining. 

You look at him sitting across from you in the dappled afternoon light; why does this man have the right to look so beautiful, while he’s being so mean?

“You know what I think?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me,” you grouse. You really would rather be scrubbing a toilet right now. 

“I think if you had real money, you would do the exact same thing I do; use it to acquire things that please you. You’re no different from me, or anyone else.”

What is it about this man, that makes you feel like you’re being slowly electrocuted? You dare to meet his gaze, finding his dark eyes veritably dancing with enjoyment for making you squirm. You cannot help but wonder if he counts you as one of those things. 

Maybe Donaka Mark thinks you’re an underachiever, but you reckon this man might be surprised by your stubborn streak. No matter your fascination with him…you need to cut him from your heart, because you’re more certain than ever that he would be the death of you. You do not possess a thick enough skin to tangle with a man like this on a regular basis. 

“That might be true,” you answer, looking back down at your teacup. “But at least I’m not a bully.” 

“Have I hurt your feelings, y/n?”

He fucking knows he has, and you would give anything to be able to quit the table right then. You consider dropping his precious teapot on the way back to the kitchen; but think better of it, and not just because you suspect he might string you up by your thumbs. It would be a tragic loss of art.  

“May I go, Mr. Mark?” 

“Not until you answer my question.” 

“Yes, you hurt my feelings. Now may I go?” 

“No. How did I offend you? By speaking the truth?” 

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” you answer with a sigh, looking out at the glittering water beyond. 

“Well?”

You make a plaintive sound, wishing the ground would just swallow you up whole, rather than having to admit the truth out loud to this man. But he waits patiently, and you just know there will be no escape for you, until you give this man the answer he wants. 

“I thought…you liked me,” you answer quietly. “But never fear, I am disabused of that foolish notion, sir. Now may I go?” 

“I do like you. Haven’t you been listening?” He sounds genuinely puzzled. 

You laugh at that, and it sounds pathetic even to you.   

Now, at last, he seems as frustrated with you as you are with him. “Fine. Go back to work, y/n.” He makes a shooing gesture with his fingers, and you have never been so grateful to be dismissed in your life. 

You hope this little interlude will convince him to just leave you alone.

“Thank you, sir,” you say with a cloying deference, and you hear him growl behind you as you scurry away. It sends an agonizing thrill jetting down your spine, and it’s all you can do not to run. 

Little do you know, you haven’t scared him off by half. You just threw down a gauntlet.

[kentosovertime]

(n.) the delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are

toji x afab!reader, fiance!megumi - 2.7k words

A/N: here's a comeback fic for my blog resurrection, had this idea before I stopped writing and FINALLY got to it, enjoy~

CW: explicit content, explicit language, age gap, revenge cheating, manipulation, humiliation, dubcon language, your dad will do, virgin!reader, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, breeding, non consensual videotaping at the end, anger issues (rip the reader)

✨Masterlist | Tag List | Ask Box | Open Request Event | AO3 | Ko-Fi✨

“For fucks sake!” You screech, the sound of your rage swallowed by a bus that screams by the side of the road as you slam the hood of your smoking car shut. 

“At least it’s not in flames-” Starts a random passerby walking their dog, but is sent running when you send them a withering glare. After the weekend you’ve had and it’s only Friday night?

You open your phone, your glare turning to the long list of outgoing calls to every hotel within an hour of your apartment, all booked to no vacancy for a local festival. Your landlord really picked the perfect weekend to kick all their tenants out for “emergency” maintenance for an issue that was reported months ago. 

Someone must have threatened to report the living conditions, as his attitude quickly changed when he offered to reimburse the hotel costs if his tenants were forced to stay at one. 

Your gaze softens as you scroll through those calls to where Megumi contacted you, letting you know he had made it to the martial arts competition he was coaching this weekend. His soft spot and skill for taking care of children was what initially drew you to him, but right now you wished more than anything you could press on his name and he could come to your rescue like always. 

Calling a tow truck to bring your car to the mechanics wasn’t necessarily the issue… but being on the streets for the next couple nights was. With your car in this condition, it wasn’t like you could sleep in it, given your inability to find even a shity motel room in the worst part of town. 

You take a moment to mourn the fact that you didn’t move closer to where your family lives before realizing you really only have one option in front of you; Toji. 

The contact information for your boyfriend's father mocks you on the screen, daring you to call him, a perfect stranger, to come and save your ass. The lack of familiarity wasn’t based on a lack of effort on your part, having tried repeatedly to get Megumi to open up about his family. The most that you were able to glean was that his mother had passed away and his father wasn’t often present. 

“Hello?” A gruff voice answers on the first ring. You didn’t even realize you had pressed his number before he was on the line. “Sorry, Mr. Fushiguro? This is Megumi’s fiance…” An awkward, lasting silence stretches out between the two of you before you clear your throat and try again. “I’m very sorry to bother you, but Megumi is out of town and m-my car is billowing smoke a-and all the hotels are booked-” 

Toji smirks as you ramble, rather cutely he may add, grabbing his wallet and keys before he’s even told you yes to both of your requests. He chuckles under his breath as you struggle to not fill the silence, letting your words hang in the air again. 

“I’m on my way,” He hums as he twists the keys in the ignition of his car. “Get your stuff out of the car in case it explodes.” 

He barks out a laugh as he hangs up and hears a distressed noise of dismay leave your throat. You’re so easily worked up, he wonders if this is why Megumi has done everything in his power to prevent the two of you from meeting… a valid concern. Considering how that ex of his used to try to hang off of Toji. He shudders in disgust at the memory of the girl, still in high school and thinking she was worth a second glance. 

Something tells him you’d be a prettier sight. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

This is why Megumi has been telling you no… It takes everything in you to keep your jaw snapped shut as you watch his father prowl up to where you're standing over your suitcase on the sidewalk, nervously glancing at the vehicle he made seem may blow up at any second. 

You approach the car hesitantly when he waves you over, shocked that your legs work from how tightly your wound. He opens up the hood to take a look at what’s causing the smoke while you wait for your tow. 

“Here, sweetheart.” It only takes him a second to point out what's wrong with your engine, gently redirecting your finger when you point to an area in question. “I wouldn’t hold out too much hope that this is worth fixing… you may be looking at a new set of wheels.” 

Anger and frustration well up in you again, even as a flush of heat cascades down your spine at the small touch of his skin on yours. You’re thankful for the distraction the anger provides, given the other option is avoiding looking at how his tight black t-shirt stretches across his torso or drooling like a pitiful little girl. Your fiance is attractive, but there’s still a softness to his face. He lacks the hard planes and sharp angles his father possesses. 

“One thing at a time.” Toji squeezes your shoulder with a smirk, leading closer than he should. How is he supposed to help himself when you seem ready to snap with how tightly you’ve wound yourself? The tension in your back only winds further with how he kneads your skin. “If you need it, I’ll pitch in to help Megumi get you around for a bit.” 

Your mouth opens to stutter out a reply… or maybe a denial for such an open ended offer, but the horn of the tow truck stops you. 

“Let me handle that.” He hums. “I wouldn’t want the tow truck driver to try to take advantage of you.” 

Watching him leave, you pull the phone from your pocket, sending Megumi a quick update about where you’re going before your phone dies. You shove it back into its spot after you’ve powered it off, saving what’s left of the battery for when you’re able to dig out your phone charger. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Toji holds the door to his house open for you, bracing his hand on the small of your back as you cross the threshold to a surprisingly tasteful living room. 

“What?” You can hear the smirk in his voice, the shock must be written all over your face. “Expect a futon couch and a mattress on the floor?”��

“M-Maybe..” You rub your neck with a sheepish look, managing a small chuckle as he leads you down the hall to what you assume is the room you’ll be using. “Something about unmarried men and the lack of dining room tables and living out of laundry baskets.” 

The drive over had taken longer than you expected, he lives on the edge of the city, the houses given more space than what you’re used to from your apartment in the city. But it had given you the opportunity to partially acclimate to his overwhelming presence. All you had to do was not look at his face… easy. 

“I did have a wife.” He hums in thought. “The art of furnishing a house isn’t lost on me… Anyway.. This one is you.” He flicks on the light as he enters the spacious room, moving until he gets to another door, turning that light on too, the cocky humor back on his face by the time he turns back to you with a playful glint in his eyes. 

“You have your own bathroom… shower head’s detachable.”  He tacks on, watching you empty your overnight bag, setting your night clothes out before you turn your phone back on and get it attached to a charger.

“That’s not- I wouldn’t-” A shocked squeak flies from your throat as your eyes widen in embarrassment. 

“Your face is…” He howls in laughter. “Absolutely priceless. My room is down the hallway, last door on the right. In case you need me.”

“I-” His tone drips with innuendo, making the blush on your face deepen to a shade of crimson. So much for not thinking about him inappropriately. 

“So innocent, sweetheart. You’d think you’re still a virgin.” You watch in mortification as your future father-in-law leans cockily against the door jam to your bathroom, your mouth opening and closing, urging something to come out, an explanation, a lie, anything. Just something to make him not make fun of you. “Oh my god… you are. Even when you’re engaged to my son?” 

“He…” You wring your hands together, your voice barely above a mumble, looking down at your engagement ring in confusion, as if it could tell you the Toji’s lying to you. “He said he wanted to wait until w-we were married. That he’d wait…” 

He never said that it would be his first time, you realize. As quickly as your embarrassment comes, it's replaced with a low, burning fit of rage that’s ready to lash out. 

“Wait! You thought Megumi was a virgin?” He snickers meanly. “That’s fucking rich, hun. That ship sailed in fucking high school.” 

You listen, shaking with the anger that’s boiling inside of you, as he describes Megumi’s relationship with a girl named Himari, how he walked in on them more than once. 

Your mind starts to spin in circles, fueled by this rage that has nowhere to go. As insufferable as Toji is about this, you find your anger can’t be directed at him. It's Megumi that lied to you for the entire duration of your relationship, not his father. 

As your mind circles, every insecurity that you’ve had about your relationship that you so easily dismissed before bubbles to the surface one by one. He’s always working or volunteering somewhere. The apartment has just become a place that he sometimes sleeps, if he ever makes it home because he travels around so often. He even said he didn’t like his father. Admittedly, you can see how they would clash, but was that it? Or did he just not want you to meet Toji so his cover wouldn’t be blown?

Toji approaches you, leaning into that delicious anger to purr in your ear. “I could show you what you’re missing, sweetheart…” 

Your body doesn’t flinch as your eyes slide to meet his gaze directly for the first time. You nod ever so slightly in consent, your breath uneven from the anticipation that’s built in your core from when you first saw him. 

“I’m going to need a little more than a nod, swe-” It’s the spite that pushes you to kiss him first. Spite that doing this will hurt Megumi has much as he hurt you, and spite that if you have to hear Toji call you sweetheart one more fucking time you’d explode. 

The groan you swallow from Toji as he presses against you wipes any doubt from your mind as you press against his broad chest to push him to the guest bed and crawl up his body to grind yourself into the bulge in his pants, hungrily seeking out his lips again. 

“Eager little virgin, aren’t we?” He growls as he yanks your head back by your hair, baring your neck to him so he can nip at it. The lack of marks there by his son is a further invitation to take you for himself. 

“Ah-! Mr. Fushi-” A whimper escapes your mouth as he carelessly shoves a hand beneath the band of your leggings and panties and you squirm to pull away as his fingers immediately shove past your entrance to scissor you open. 

“Uh uh. That’s enough of that shit.” He bites a harsh mark into the juncture of your neck, grinning when you cry out with a mixture of pain and pleasure, fat tears welling in your eyes and spilling over, your core spasming around his digits he continues to bully into you. “I’m not fucking stopping until your dripping, sweetheart. I’m going to have you crying that its too much and I’m not going to fucking stop. Even if you beg.”

It stings, the foreign feeling inside of you, but that feeling is quickly replaced by a rapidly approaching orgasm. You can take him, you think as you reach down between you to palm him through his sweatpants. You’re ready for anything he could give you. 

Your efforts leave you breathless and end with you managing to work his pant’s down his legs as he rips your leggings from your body along with your panties. 

“Fuck-” He growl as you take ahold of his length and line him up with your entrance as you hover above him. “You better slow down or you’ll hurt yourself.”

“You’re too cocky for your own- oh fuck-” You hiss as you allow the head of his cock to breach your entrance. The sting returns and flares into white hot heat at your core, making you double over into his chest as each inch rips its way into you. Your hips rock needily into him, trying with desperate circles to work yourself open. 

By the third circle of your hips, Toji loses his patience. His hands reach out to grapple your hips, using his momentum to flip the two of you before he thrusts violently into you, fully seating himself before pulling from your heat to slam home again. 

“Broken in now, aren’t you?” He growls, slamming into you a few more times before the sting completely abates, making sure you really feel what he’s taking from you. “Took what you wanted like a greedy fucking whore. Now shut the fuck up and be thankful I’m giving you my cock.” 

He pulls out of you to manhandle you until your chest is laying against the covers, wasting no time before he’s hauling your hips back into where he kneels behind you, entering you roughly again and setting a punishing pace. 

“You take me like a trained bitch.” He pants, grunting as his hips slap against yours, sending the vibrations straight to your clit as you sob into the duvet. “You lying about this being your first time?” 

You don’t answer, your face planted into the covers from the angle he has you bent into. Toji growls in annoyance, gathering your arms behind you to pull you up against his chest before his free hand snakes around your front to deliver a harsh slap to your center, ripping a scream from you.

“Go on slut. Answer, daddy.” He slaps your clit again and you feel yourself gush around his length, pushed to the edge. 

“M’not lying, Mr. Fushigur-” Another slap has you trembling, fresh tears pouring down your cheeks as you build impossibly higher. “D-Daddy- M’not you just f-feel s’good. I’ve b-been wet since you showed up.”

“Greedy little thing’s so ignored by Megumi you have to result to fucking his dad?” He coos down at you condescendingly, degrading you further. His voice takes on a cruel tone as he starts circling your clit. “How are you going to explain to your precious fiance that you’re carrying his brother?” 

“W-What- n-no T-Toji you c- shit!” You cum suddenly around him, the image of you leaking his cum banging around your head until you're clamping so hard around him you’re pulling his orgasm from him. Shivers wrack your body as you feel the ropes of his cum pump into you and leak from where you’re connected.  

The two of you breathe heavily, your panting filling the room as you come down from your highs. In your haze you don’t notice Toji video taping his cock pulling out of your cunt or the cum that gushed out in its wake before playfully slapping your ass and walking into the guest bathroom to get you a towel. 

You slump against the covers, wincing as you reach for your phone when you see the screen go off with worried messages from Megumi about being near his father. Followed by numerous missed calls with the same message, pleading with you not to stay with him. That he’d rush home tonight to help you so you didn’t have to stay there. 

You scowl at the message, sending off something that gets right to the point. 

<Who’s Himari?>

You decline the immediate litany of frantic calls, fully shutting off your phone and shuffling out of bed to join Toji in the bathroom. Maybe the shower could be round two… and if not, you’d happily sneak into the master bedroom to make that a reality.

tag list: @sugarbooger513 @sugarmapoops @roughwithfluff @severelytalentless @yelzoldyck @silversslut @aazaard @dreamyyholland @wobblewobble822 @vantastic210@rafzaha @tirzamisu @chososhoney @littlemochi @bebechinas99 @firdaoz @saoney @meromelo @pelicanpizza @sukunassoulmate @damncakie @katgalle @honeyyjems [[if your blog name is crossed out i couldn't tag you]]

[p4rallel-universe]

awkward phonecall

A/N - this is based off of a scene in the movie Metal Lords, which is a very good movie and should be watched by everyone.

summary: Enid has a crush on the reader, who has psychic/telekinetic powers. after sitting in on one of this light-hearted exchanges with Bianca, Enid sees a chance and takes it.

"you know, you do seem pretty gay to me, Y/N." Bianca is teasing you, as usual.

you could say the two of you have a love-hate relationship. mostly hate. and not really love. maybe...despise-tolerate?

sitting in the courtyard, at a bench and table is you, Bianca (of course) and a few of your classmates. this group includes Enid Sinclair, your bright, bubbly friend, who's been acting kind of different recently. you haven't told anyone, but you have a bit of a crush on her. you're pretty sure she's into Ajax though, which is fine, you're not gonna push.

"i am not!" you reply, faking offense.

"something about your hair, your voice, the way you walk. so...basically everything." she smirks and you roll your eyes.

"you're sounding a bit like Ariel there, miss mermaid." it's the best insult you can think of. if you're honest, your back and forth with Bianca is reminiscent of childhood squabbles.

"just because you've got Jedi powers." she mocks you, putting on a stereotypical nerdy voice.

"haha." you fake laugh at the lame insult, "spare me, i'll die a virgin if i'm known as 'one of the guys with Jedi powers'."

Bianca shoots you a look, an eyebrow raised, "i didn't mean it that way! i'm not, well-" you give up, and end up just sighing in frustration as Bianca laughs at you. you raise the middle finger to her before chuckling over it yourself.

the day continues as usual, and before you know it, it's 8 PM, and you're pretty relaxed in your dorm, when your phone rings. it's Enid. sitting up, you immediately answer,

"hey!" you greet, excited that she phoned you, but curious as to why,

"hey! uh, how was your day?" her sweet, clear voice rings out and you smile,

"it was alright, easy enough classes. except for Bianca's cruelty to me at lunch, of course." you chuckle down the phone,

"Bianca is always saying ridiculous things." Enid replies, a hint of actual malice in her voice.

"oh yeah, which parts ridiculous? the Jedi part, the gay part, or the virgin part?" you joke, but she goes quiet. worried you overstepped a boundary, you prepare to a) apologise (awkwardly) or b) make an excuse and hang up. before you can follow through on either option, she speaks up.

"well, you are, right?" her voice is low, like she's choosing her words carefully,

"gay? i mean, i don't think so. i guess it's a spectrum?" you tell her, confused

Enid huffs softly, "no, i mean, a virgin. a-are you a virgin?" she asks very quickly. as if she never even said it.

taken aback, you answer honestly, "oh! umm- yeah, definitely. 100%." you cringe at your response, smacking your forehead.

there's a pause.

"hello?" you say into the phone, thinking the lines went dead. or worse. she hung up after finding out your terrible secret.

"d-do you want-", she pauses, taking her time, "do you want to...not be?" she holds her breath, waiting for your answer. oh no. oh no. what a stupid thing to ask! she panics. what she doesn't realise is that, in your silence, you're also having your own moment of panic. oh. oh. is this a joke? i should say something. fuck. a million thoughts go through your head.

"uhh, yes? yes, actually. yeah." your mouth has gone dry and every second feels like an hour of waiting.

"can you meet me behind the greenhouse in half an hour?" Enid asks bluntly, her caution from before seemingly vanished.

"see you then." you blurt out, and Enid giggles as she hangs up the phone.

oh, you think to yourself.

oh.

(bit of a short, low effort fic. just bc i enjoyed the concept and wanted to put it down, also felt like writing. more solid fics coming soon 👍)

[plxviofiles]

you can stay.

#wanda maximoff x fem!reader, fluff <3 (requests are open!)

WARNINGS: none, not proofread because it's 4 am and I'm extremely sleep deprived 😭

→ aggressively google searches 'how to deny girlfriend when she throws pebbles on your window and gives you puppy eyes'

! word count: 1.3K

A/N: straying away from requests to write a short comfort wanda fic !! <33 i honestly dont remember what ive been doing i just remember watching encanto an unhealthy amount of times and crying over it 😕 i referenced a song (reference me is back 😇) and its one that i love v much so i hope you enjoy and also kinda referencing that one tasm gwenter scene !! ALSO IDK WHAT IS PLINK PLINK OKAY IDK HOW IT SOUNDS LIKE DONT ATTACK ME 🙄

plink.

plink.

plink.

your eye twiches.

you pull your blanket closer.

plink!

plink!

plink!

you refuse to get up, the day having been exhausting enough.

you clutch your book tighter in one hand, your other hand that circled the mug following in suit.

PLINK.

PLINK.

PLINK.

"I don't get paid enough to live," you mutter tiredly, going to check the window.

"WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM AND WHO-? wands? wands, is that you?"

the brunette smiles shyly, waving up to you excitedly, "hello, my love!"

your cheeks heat up immediately upon hearing the term of endearment, but then you put your hands on your hips, "wanda maximoff, what are you doing here? it's dark out!"

she shrugs cutely, kicking at the grass on the ground.

that's when you notice how adorable this entire situation was.

your girlfriend, who had the strictest parents and nosiest brother, was standing in your front yard, hair a lttle disheveled, a pillow held in one arm, and her hands fiddling, gazing up with your favorite puppy eyes in existence.

god, you were whipped. your arms drop to your side, and you sigh fondly.

she mutters something incoherent and you raise a brow, "sorry, angel, could you repeat that?"

her blush is visible even in the dark, "I can't sleep."

"why not?" you decide to tease her, "you have no problem sleeping during our movie nights."

she groans in protest, "love, it's not my fault I have tiring days and you love documentaries!"

you scoff playfully, placing a hand on the window sill and shaking your head at your girlfriend, "very nice, maximoff."

"I like your documentaries! they're interesting. I just-"

"I know, angel, I was kidding," you reassure her kindly, perking up slightly when you notice her shoulders relax, "why not just ring the doorbell?"

"your parents wouldn't let me in this late, you know that," she whispers, using her powers to lift herself up to your window sill.

"did i say you could come in?" you jive further, and wanda pouts.

POUTS. you hated her pouts.

she knows you're defeated when you gesture for her to come, turning around and walking back into your room.

"you can stay, but you have to be quiet, because my parents are always up late-"

like you jinxed it, you hear a knock.

"hide!" you whisper shouted to your girlfriend who franctically nods before deciding to hide in your closet that was barely big enough for your clothes and her.

"yes mom?" you ask as you open the door, a suspicious smile creeping on your face, "what is it?"

"just wanted to ask if your hot chocolate tasted good?" your mother queried good-naturedly, and you grin, "of course! whatever you make tastes good."

"good, good, well it's getting late," she leans in for a hug and you hug her tightly, "you should go to sleep."

"of course," you kiss her on the cheek, "good night, mom."

you close the door and that's when wanda bursts out of your closet, littering your room floor with clothes.

you stand there and a laugh escapes, wanda's shocked face making the whole situation funnier.

wanda laughs along and you start picking your clothes up, "you really bring the party with you, don't you?"

"good that you're starting to notice," wanda chirps, standing up with your help and brushing herself off.

"it was that ONE time like years ago," you argue gamesomely, "let it go!"

"never."

and another knock.

your eyes widen and wanda doesn't need you to talk to dive behind your curtains.

"yes?" you attempt to keep your facade up to your sister, who looks at you confusedly, "you seem....skittish."

"oh, it's nothing," you wave dismissively, "just had too much coffee, that's all!"

she still appears to be onto you but either didn't care or was too tired to question more (you don't even drink coffee but nevermind), "can i borrow your yellow sweater?"

wanda cringes behind the curtains when she remembers she put it on just now when you were cleaning up, and like you knew what she was thinking, you cringe as well.

you pretend to think, looking in your closet, "give me a sec!"

your sister taps her foot, looking around your room, although not entering, "hey, your curtain-"

"UM, I CAN'T FIND IT!" you suddenly exclaim, "pretty sure I threw it into the washing machine yesterday!"

"but-"

"no buts!" you interrupt, shooing her away, "I'll give it to you when I find it okay? Enjoy your night out!"

when she opens her mouth again, you shut the door for the second time.

wanda ungracefully untangles herself from the curtains and gives you a clumsy thumbs up, which you respond to with a weak smile.

"you okay?" wanda asks, approaching you and cupping your face gently with her hands.

"yeah, i just," you start, when you hear ANOTHER KNOCK.

AGAIN.

steam pours out of your ears as wanda whispers soothing words before crawling underneath your bed, causing you to giggle at the ridiculous actions she took just to make sure you don't get in trouble.

"hello, how was your day?" it was your father.

horrible. tiring. you just want a good evening with your girlfriend. why are we still here. just to suffer?

"good," you laugh nervously, sounding strained, "very good. amazing. wonderful."

"I can tell when you're being sarcastic, you know," your father worridly places a hand on your shoulder, "you could come to me whenever?"

"I know, whenever I feel bad," you recite the same thing he's told you since you were little, "I know dad, and it's the same for you okay? how was your day?"

"better after this little chat and one of your mother's cups of hot chocolate," he chuckles joyfully, squeezing your shoulder, "well, I'll-"

"yes, I'll see you later, make sure you sleep, I'll sleep now too! good night!"

you slam the door after he walks away and you let yourself slide down until you're sitting on the floor.

wanda crawls out of her hiding place with a concerned gaze, but you lift up an awkward thumbs up, mirroring hers a while ago, to show that you were okay.

"I love my family so much, it's just," you sigh heavily, "everyone knows I had a long day and do not enter is written on the doorway! why can't everyone just go away!"

wanda nods in understanding, but doubt is clearly in her eyes before you oppose it, "except you. you can stay."

the happiness in her eyes at those five words makes you sigh again, but this time in relief. she chose to be here and you chose to let her in. she could make you feel better about anything.

you dramatically lift yourself up from the floor and flop on your bed, and wanda plops in the bed next to you, positioning her head to lay on your chest.

she hums beautifully while you weave your hand through her hair.

it was one of your favorite actions to do, it just reminded you that she was there. present with you.

"sorry you had such a long day, love," wanda whispers, fingers dancing along your torso and then your neck, pulling you closer.

"it's not your fault," you mumble, burying your face into her hair that always somehow smelt like cinnamon, "i'm just glad you're here."

"so am I," she places kisses up your neck and eventually her soft lips land on yours.

"how was your day?" you inquire, remembering to check on her too.

she looks into your eyes and your vision is flooded with your favorite shade of green.

"way less tiring than yours," she giggles when you frown, knowing that you wanted to jump and tell her that it still matters to you, "I got a new book."

"that's wonderful, what's it about?" your eagerness never fails to make wanda's heart warm.

and there, tucked in bed with the love of your life, with her breath fanning your face, and your hand set on the small of her back, you thank the universe that wanda maximoff was yours.

[levi-akerman248]

could you write a levi ackerman x fem!reader fic? ..maybe even with smut included.. 👀

thank you!

Hello anon! Thank you for the submission 😊 I don’t usually write xfem reader cause I feel like there’s already a lot of that out there compared to the xmale reader. However I’m not against writing it so if you could help me out and tell me what exactly you’re looking for in the fic? (You can send the details in another anonymous request if that makes you more comfortable)

For instance, do you want a submissive reader or dominant reader? Are there certain kinks you wish to appear in the smut or certain ones you don’t want to appear? Or are you ok with anything as long as it’s fem reader?

I’ll be patiently waiting your response😊 in the meantime, enjoy two small snippets of sub reader as well as sub Levi

It’s smutty of course~

Sub reader:

“P-please please please pleeeease”

Levi let out a dark chuckle, it ringing in (y/n)’s ear sent shivers down her spine, making the feeling of Levi’s shirtless body against her back much more noticeable.

“Come on puppy, I know you can do better then that~”

She whimpered and begged some more, thrusting up against his hand, Desperately chasing her release.

“P-please, I need it please, Just l-let me...ohh~ please”

(Y/n) was so close, it was right there, she just needed Levi’s permission but the sadistic fuck wouldn’t let her until he was satisfied with her begging

She was becoming more and more frustrated, ‘I just want to cum’

“Mmm, poor little thing. You really wanna cum don’t you baby~?”

(Y/n) whimpered, “yes, yes, please let me please!”

Levi hummed and slowed down his strokes and (y/n) nearly screamed in frustration

“N-noooo, please don’t stop please I need it please keep touching me please!”

(Y/n) was on the brink of tears when Levi whispered in her ear,

“If you really wanna cum, you know exactly what you need to say”

Sub Levi:

“Fuck~”

(Y/n) smirked and gripped Levi’s leash tighter, pulling him closer to her as she bounced slowly on his cock

“What’s wrong kitten? Is mommy being too rough~?”

Levi quickly shook his head, the little bell on his collar jingling.

It made his cheeks flush, he wanted to be embarrassed. He should have been, but how could he when (y/n)’s heavenly voice commanded him into pleasure

He was currently blindfolded, his hands tied behind his back, a short leash hooked onto his collar. He was completely and utterly helpless

And he fucking loved it.

So did (y/n). After all, who could resist the sight that she saw? Levi, the man who held great respect and power in their small world, tied up and begging for her and no one else.

Plus his cock felt great

“Ngh fuck, please~”

(Y/n) gripped Levi’s hair and pulled his head back, exposing the purple hickys she had marked all along his neck

It filled her with pride to mark Levi, something about showing everyone he was hers made her feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Like a kid who had the best toy and wanted to show it off to everyone.

(Y/n) bent down and let out a moan into Levi’s ear, causing him to whimper and his cock to twitch inside her

[phoebe-delia]

Has anyone asked for song #1 yet? I'm very curious which song you're listening to most.

I really enjoy your writing in combination with the song prompts! Thank you for sharing it with the world!

Hello darling! Thank you for this ask. As a matter of fact, no one has requested 1!

My number 1 song is the explicit version of "Potential Breakup Song" by Aly and AJ.

I know, I thought it would be a Taylor Swift song, too! I will say, this playlist was from Apple Music and I recently started using Spotify more so idk if this is still accurate for my current No. 1 song, but it's still a bop.

This is a bit of a challenge, but I figure if I can write a fic based on "Yeah!" by Usher, I can give this a try. This fic will be *mostly* funny and fluffy but there's some angst with a happy ending.

5 Times Draco Almost Broke Up With Harry

1.

"Tell me something," Draco said shyly, tracing patterns into Harry's bare arm. Sunlight streamed into the living room, dust motes dancing in the rays.

"What do you mean?"

"Something I don't already know about you."

"Like what?"

Draco's expression turned exasperated. "I don't know, Harry, that's rather the point."

"Right...er, okay, here's something you don't know about me. I don't like whipped cream."

Draco looked at him, startled. "You don't?"

"Er, no. I also don't like marshmallows or--"

"What?"

"Or avocado, or eggs."

Draco sputtered. "What is wrong with you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Merlin, here we go."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Every time I tell people the foods I don't like, they get all indignant and huffy," Harry waved a hand. "It's so weird. Like I've offended them by disliking meringue."

"You don't like meringue?! That's it, I'm breaking up with you."

Harry groaned. "I regret this. I regret everything. Just--forget it."

Draco sighed. "No, no I'm sorry. In my exaggerated teasing, I see how I might've struck a nerve."

"It's fine--I'm just tired of people taking my food preferences as a personal insult."

"I take everything you do as a personal insult."

Harry just chuckled. "That you do, Draco, that you do."

2.

"POTTER!!"

"WHAT?"

"GET IN HERE!"

"WHERE'S 'HERE'?"

"TAKE A WILD GUESS, AUROR POTTER!"

....

"Ah, good to see that your tracking skills aren't too hopeless. Now, care to tell me what's wrong with this picture?"

"Er...you're angry?"

"Yes, I am angry--and the reason for that is obvious if you merely look around the room and see if you can identify what might be bothering me."

"You get really formal when you're upset."

"Potter--"

"And you call me Potter."

"If only you would use your powers of observation for discovering the cause and not the symptoms of my frustration, this conversation would be over."

...

"Is it my socks?"

"Your socks, your pants, your shirt, your trousers--all in a heap in the closet."

"So? I haven't done laundry in a while."

"Potter, you do realize there are laundry spells, don't you? So that dirty clothes don't stink up one's closet?"

"...No?"

Sigh. "Alright, I suppose I won't move out this time."

"Oh, what a relief."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"Never. Especially not toward you, baby."

"I should hope not. Now, c'mere and let me teach you the spell."

3.

"I can't believe you'd betray me like this." Draco shook his head mournfully, bits of snow falling from the top of his warm hat. "I trusted you."

Harry scoffed. His breath fogged in the air. "I told you this was happening today. It's not my fault you weren't listening."

"Asking me post-coital if I'd like to attend the Weasley Family Brunch is Slytherin-level manipulation."

"Did I ever tell you the Sorting Hat almost put me in Slytherin?"

"What?" Draco stopped walking, turning to Harry in shock.

"Yeah. Told me I'd do well. But you'd been such an arse to Ron that I begged it to sort me anywhere else."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course. Honestly, I did you a favor. You were practically made for Gryffindor."

"Who knows? Maybe we'd have been friends back then."

Draco glared and Harry snickered.

"You know, Potter, between your little jokes and this stunt you pulled, I'm one insult away from Apparating on the spot and leaving you here."

Harry smiled fondly. Taking Draco's hand, he led them toward the Burrow, its warm light a welcome destination in the icy weather.

"Nah, you won't, you know why?"

"Why?"

Harry smirked. "Because then we won't get to be post-coital together."

Draco scowled. Harry laughed.

4.

"Don't say a word."

"Can I just--"

"Harry."

"But I--"

"Potter. Shut up.

...

"Draco I'm sorry--"

"Harry, what is the one thing I asked you to do when you became an Auror?"

"...Don't be stupid."

"Yes. I asked you not to do anything stupid. I asked you not to impulsively put yourself in harm's way."

"Draco it's my job to protect my partner, and--"

"You don't think I understand that? Of course I do! I can't fault you for being a loyal partner, Harry, but running into a hostage situation without calling for backup is the absolute dumbest thing you could've done! You nearly died!"

"But I didn't! And the case is over now."

"You were in St. Mungos for nearly a week! Do you know how agonizing it was to see you like that? Do you--" Draco's voice cracked and he cut himself off, turning away from Harry.

Harry's heart clenched. He walked up to Draco and wrapped strong arms around him from behind, expecting to be pushed away. Instead, Draco leaned into the touch.

"I know your job has its risks, Harry, but the least you can do is not create them for yourself. You said the Sorting Hat nearly put you in Slytherin; some self-preservation would be good for you."

Harry sighed, nuzzling Draco's neck. "Okay. I'll try."

Draco turned in his arms, looking at Harry with wet eyes. "Good. The last thing I want to do is break up with you, but I couldn't handle it if I lost you any other way, I--" The tears spilled at that. Draco's face flushed in embarrassment, in anguish.

Harry's chest constricted. He pulled Draco close to himself and stroked his hair, letting the other man cry his fears into his shirt.

"I won't let it happen, Draco. I promise."

Draco nodded, his cheek brushing Harry's shirt.

Harry smiled. They'd be okay.

5.

Draco was going to kill Harry.

He was going to break up with him, and then kill him, and then revive him just to break up with him once more.

He cast a Tempus. 8:20.

Over an hour. Over an hour he'd been waiting for Harry to return home. He was beginning to get hot in his tailored suit, despite the cooling charms.

He hadn't heard anything. No Owl, no Floo, no nothing. Either Harry had no respect for decorum or...

Nope. Draco couldn't go there, wouldn't. Harry promised and he always kept his promises.

Suddenly, the Floo roared to life, making Draco jump. Harry stumbled through with a panicked expression on his face, dusting the Floo powder from his formal robes.

"Draco! Merlin, I'm so sorry, I thought I had time and then everything got all screwed up and I got here as fast as I could."

Draco sighed. "It's fine, Harry, let's just order takeaway."

"Why?"

"Well, we missed our reservation. Cerise won't wait for more than thirty minutes."

Harry pursed his lips. "What if I had something else in mind?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

With a smirk, Harry tossed him a hairbrush, which Draco caught with Seeker instinct.

"Harry wh--" His eyes widened as he felt the pull of a portkey, the sound of Harry's amused laughter echoing behind him.

He landed with a thud on a balcony. After a crack, Harry appeared next to him, gasping to catch his breath for a moment.

"Potter, what the fuck?"

Harry chuckled. "Surprise! Look around, Draco."

Draco's breath caught as he finally took in his surroundings. They were standing on a balcony in Paris, confirmed by the sight of La Tour Eiffel in the distance. The lights of the city twinkled like stars below them. On the balcony were two chairs and a small table with hot food under a stasis charm. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat ready for them. Draco checked the label and confirmed with a gasp that it was a 1989 Chateau Lafleur.

"Harry, I--" Draco turned around but was startled into silence at the sight of Harry on his knee, a hopeful smile on his face and a small black box in his hand.

Draco's eyes went wide. "What?" He breathed.

Harry bit his lip. "Draco, I'm sorry I don't like whipped cream. I'm sorry I forget to do laundry, and that I dragged you to Sunday dinner. I'm sorry that I worry you sometimes because my job is dangerous. I'm sorry I run late to our dates sometimes.

But I promise to give you the avocado from my sandwich. I promise to try to remember the spells you taught me, and to use my manipulative powers for good and not evil. I promise I'll use better judgment in the field. And I promise I'll try to be on time for our dates.

And I promise to do all of this for as long as I can, as long as you let me. And if you do--if you promise to love me for the rest of our lives--I promise to do the same. Draco Malfoy, will you marry me?"

Draco let out a delighted, euphoric laugh. "Yes, yes of course I'll marry you!"

Harry grinned and rose from his knee to pull Draco into a nearly bruising kiss. When they pulled apart, they pressed their foreheads together and looked as Harry slid the ring, a simple silver band with tiny emeralds, onto Draco's finger.

As they ate dinner, looking out over the city, Harry gave him a cheeky grin. "So, tell me, how'd I do?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "With tonight? The proposal?"

"Yeah, what'd you think? I hope it made up for me being late. I'm sure you were about ten minutes from breaking up with me," Harry said with a chuckle.

Draco shook his head and smirked. "No, Harry," he raised the glass of wine to his lips. "I'd never do that."

Send me an ask about Harry Potter, broadway/musicals, The West Wing, and/or Taylor Swift! Or just about life in general :).

Also, I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Inej Ghafa x fem! Reader - Close Enough

A/n: So.... Ya I this wasn't a request I just really inspired to write about Inej today and yes I did write this all today! Also this fic goes (not full, full on) but more with Inej's struggles with touch with her S/O because I see a whole lot for Kaz (which isn't a bad thing keep writing those fics I enjoy them)! But like zero for Inej! So I made one, I hope ya'll enjoy!

Warnings: The Menagerie, mentions of sexual assault, swearing, mentions of panic attacks and flashbacks, I think that's it? You have been warned!

Summary: You and Inej have been dancing around each both knowing that you like each other, yet Inej struggles with her past when she's around you

(The gif is not mine and I do not own shadow and bone or it's characters!)

Her eyes slide over Y/n's body admiring her beauty and the way her y/h/c locks moved with the wind from the sea.

The ship rocked back and forth and Inej couldn't help but think about the way the L/n girl moved. Although Y/n wasn't silent or fluid with her motions, the girl was still graceful in her own not very refined way.

The way she held herself, the way she walked was all so effortless and bold, nothing like the captain of the very ship who was always so lithe and elegant. Yet Inej couldn't stop thinking or looking at the girl who never stayed silent. Yet Inej would never come close to the white tiger named Y/n, and both already knew that.

The deafening sound of the sea and storm was broken by the only person who could become louder and break an unbreakable silence; Y/n.

Inej could hear her footsteps coming closer and closer. She could hear her breathing even if it wasn't heavy, and most of all she could hear her close-mouthed giggles because if they were open-mouthed it would grab all the Saints in this world's attention.

Listening wasn't an option with Y/n you had to pay attention. Her whole aura demanded it, and Inej was starting to think even the Saints could hear her sometimes because that girl had a power over her no one had ever had she didn't even realize it.

"Hello, Captain!" Y/n sings leaping towards Inej's side eagerly.

Instantly Inej's senses are filled with the white tiger's perfume and it overwhelms her with emotions and memories of her past; her past in the Menagerie.

Intentionally the girl moves closer to Inej when she doesn't say something right away, and she can physically feel the hands ripping at her purple silks trying to place them apart like monsters to get to what was underneath. The kohl was around her eyes again, the bells on her ankles and the painted spots that really made her seem like an animal were on her shoulders.

She could smell the incense in her room, and the gold metal bars on the windows. It was metaphorically a cage but it was also a literal one. Inej wasn't herself anymore she was just a seemingly useless lynx only good for one thing; then she feels a hand creep up and up...

Snapping out of her trance she harshly backs away from L/n but she's still as silent as ever and that alone makes her want to scream out her lungs because she just wants to be heard.

She thought that maybe taking down the Slavers would help her find peace, she thought being away from the barrel and the Menagerie would help her hopefully start over. Really she thought she was over this, the flashbacks, the full-on panic attacks where she can't have anyone touch her for about an hour or more.

In reality, though, all she really wants is to be able to be loud and to be able to touch Y/n romanticly, all she wants is to not feel the dirty hands of the men every time she brushes against her lover.

Inej Ghafa wants to be free of the cage that she thought she had escaped, yet every time she thinks that she's pulled right back in. Clawing at the bars trying to flee yet again.

That was why the captain of the Wraith would not come close enough to the white tiger.

Guilt flash's in Y/n's eyes and she backs away, immediately putting even more space in between the two giving Inej some space to breathe.

"Sorry." The girl whispers backing up even further but never leaving nor taking her y/c/e orbs off of Ghafa.

Inej takes a breath in and she can no longer smell Y/n's perfume and the incense from the Menagerie, but she longs to smell Y/n's scent forever. And Inej is glad that Y/n's skin isn't against her's anymore but inside she's screaming because that's the only thing she wants to feel.

Inej rubs her hands over her eyes feeling so tired of all of this; if she could she would just kiss the tiger on the lips but because of fucking trauma she couldn't.

Another thought that is always at the back of her mind is ever so present at the moment - because what if she never gets to touch Y/n? Why could she touch basically anyone else but her?

"It's not your fault, you know that okay? I just-"

But Y/n being the loud person that she is, she cuts Inej off. "But do you know?"

She snaps her head up meeting the white tiger's eyes that seem to be blazing holes into her.

"Do you know it's not your fault Ghafa?"

Once again her breath is caught in her throat and the captain of the Wraith - the fearsome captain who tames the seas and takes down slavers is rendered speechless in eight words.

"Because even if you do, do you know I don't need you to touch me or even come into a five-meter radius of me?"

"That's not fair to you." She argues.

"I just want you to love me!" Y/n starts raising her voice and tears were in her eyes showing how serious the situation really was.

"You know I can't do that without-"

"For fucks shake Inej! I don't need any of the extra touchings or even getting close to me! I JUST WANT YOUR LOVE! I don't care how you show it! I just want to be yours!"

Y/n's eyes widen and panic impulses through her eyes and for the first time in a long time everything is silent. Even the ocean, even the storm, the wind, Y/n has stopped being loud and the world is awfully quiet like it needs to run after her noise. Her brightness.

Soundless tears drip from both of the girl's eyes as Inej takes a step forward the floorboards of the ship creaking beneath her as she comes closer. Not insanely close, but that wasn't the point.

"Okay." Inej murmurs.

"What?"

"I want to be yours too."

Suddenly Y/n smiles and the world brightens again and the noise of the universe is back and Inej is no longer creaking on the floorboards she's silent again but she's pretty sure she has someone else to teach her how to be loud.

Taking four steps forwards she could probably reach out and grab Y/n's hand if she wanted to, and it wouldn't be unexpected or anything of the sort. It would be on her terms.

Carefully and even a bit terrified Inej reach's her hand out towards Y/n's and she lets them brush together.

As soon as she feels her skin against her's she forgets how to breathe and fireworks must have gone off in her stomach because that's how she was feeling. It was like jumping from rooftop to rooftop without the smoke and grim of Ketterdam, it was like sailing the ocean without the fear of drowning.

Though she quickly pulls away knowing any longer she'll be pulled back into memories of her past again. Disappointment folds her veins and Y/n could obviously tell that it was already wearing her down.

"Little by little Captain! Remember step by step!"

Her voice then takes a more serious but soothing tone.

"Don't push yourself remember what I asked of you? Your love, not your body. We got to four steps today? Well maybe in a month to a year you'll get to five, I don't care! I'll be proud either way! But for right now this is close enough."

Inej grins up at the woman standing before her.

"You're amazing you know that right?"

Y/n simply flicks her hair. "Oh, I know!"

They both laugh and it rings throughout the earth reaching all the way to the Saints and they finally looked down from the heavens to see the two most remarkable girls laughing standing five feet apart holding love for each other that was so powerful they could see it spread.

It was a power they didn't know existed among the humans and they saw its potential to spread everywhere but it stopped at one point.

But that was close enough.

Words 1400

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Shadow and bone taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien @dontjudgeabookbythecover @brekker-zenik @alohastitch0626

[broadstflyers]

A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first ever fic! It's really just an idea I've had for months, and then wrote, and then couldn't figure out which hockey boy it fit, until some mutuals were kind enough to help. I settled on our boy Barzy! It's inspired by Taylor Swift's "Gold Rush", and I really wanted to do my best in reflecting the beautiful imagery this story creates for me. I hope I did it justice. It's a little terrifying putting my writing out there, but I hope people enjoy it!

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Two curse words, it's really just internal conflict within the reader

Summary: You're celebrating your dad's 50th birthday with some friends and family at a dinner party. You happen to land your eyes on a beautiful stranger, who you can't seem to get out of your head. You spend the rest of the night wondering, should you go up to him?

Or do you let him walk out the door?

___________

They say when you first lay eyes on your soulmate, time stands completely still. As you gaze into their eyes, it feels as though you’ve known them for multiple lifetimes. It feels like home. Is that even remotely true?

You start to take a sip of your drink and turn your head slightly to take in your surroundings. Your eyes dance around the room, until they stumble upon another pair of wondering eyes. Your eyes lock, and you’re instantly sucked into the mysterious yet intriguing twinkling grey-blue color that compliments his navy blue suit. Suddenly, your breath hitches in your throat, every part of your body stiffens, except for your lips that part slightly and eyes that widen. The drink is long forgotten, you’re even struggling to keep it from practically falling out of your hands and onto the wooden floor. The party is now just a blur, the noise? What noise? The world is muffled, as if someone stuck your head into a hundred pillows. Images stream through your mind like an endless movie reel wrapped in shimmery gold. Endless laughter on a first date over coffee. Him rubbing the back of your hand as you take a stroll through the park. Holiday mornings, exchanging gifts. Would he participate in the tradition of opening small gifts first, or would he want the biggest gift right off the bat? Ice skating and him catching you as you stumble on a pesky track in the ice. Him tossing you into the pool while you’re trying to put up a fight in a losing battle. A sweet and quiet proposal where he promises his forever love. A kiss at the altar in front of all your friends and family. Chasing after rambunctious little kids trying to get them to nap. All these gold dripping images of a pure love plow through your brain. Your heart is the unmovable object. They are the unstoppable force.

You and him only shared a look for what was probably half a second, but the thick air that seemed to only be affecting you made time feel like it stood completely still.

You burst back into reality with the help of a slight head shake. “Woah,” you quietly whisper. You blink a few times and finally get around to taking a sip of your drink to quench your parched throat. Did you just see a whole future...with a stranger?

“Hey, are you okay?” Stella asks. Her hand gently touches your arm as she cocks her head to the side. Her brows are furrowed in what can only be described as pure confusion. Did you really space out that badly as she was talking? What were you guys even talking about?

“Oh,” you say as you gently shake your head, “yeah.” You chuckle, “yeah, I’m just fine.” You wait a beat then say, “Hey, I’m going to use the bathroom really quickly, okay?”

“Sure thing,” she nods. “Do you need me to come with?”

“I’m totally fine, I promise,” you reassure with every bone in your body while giving her your drink. You really just needed to be alone to calm your racing mind that has now turned a complete stranger into a romantic interest with the power of a golden montage.

You make your way over to the exit of the dining hall and push the creaky open with your shoulder, and the amount of force you had to use honestly hurt. Your heels click down the tiled hallway of the golf club to find the bathroom door. The rectangular bathroom mirror framed in an intricate gold design holds your reflection. You slightly tilt your head as you take a look at your face. It’s like someone took the color of a clown nose and colored in your face with it. Jeez. You shake your head and sigh. This isn’t good, and deep down, you know that. You hate when you’re like this, all flustered over someone who just happened to lock eyes with you. His eyes. They were gleaming and just all around beautiful. What were you thinking again?

Oh, right.

Well, it’s pretty obvious he has this power over you, and you don’t like that. Now is your face going to become red everytime you see him? You check your phone. There’s still two hours left, plenty of time to possibly see him again. You can’t tell if that’s necessarily a good or bad thing.

You pace around the bathroom trying to reason with your begging heart. He was pretty good looking, which means that so many people naturally want him. Who was he even talking to, anyways? You gasp and stop in your tracks, blood running cold. “He was talking to a girl,” you mumble. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t sound completely and utterly crushed. In the heat of the moment, you completely failed to realize the blonde standing next to him. You lean over the counter, the cold marble feeling on your arms making your arms break out in goosebumps. You take one last stern look in the mirror at your face. “See, this is why we can’t allow ourselves to fall that hard,” you whisper angrily, “everyone wants him, and I just...I don’t like a gold rush like that.” You shake your head again and take one last deep breath to shake out any other thoughts. You can see yourself standing barefooted at the bottom of a hole looking astounded at how tall the walls have grown, and how distant the light looks. It feels like you soared lightheartedly into the sky, just to fall and crush every bone in your body.

You roll your eyes to yourself while slightly cursing yourself out. Pushing the bathroom door open, you step out into the hallway and make a beeline back for the dining hall. Your purse starts spastically vibrating, so you hastily fish your phone out to put an end to the obnoxious noise. Scanning the text, you read that your mom is asking where you went, as the cake for your dad’s birthday is going to be cut soon. You sigh as you text, “I’m hurrying back now.”

That’s all you see before you feel a slight brush tickle your bare shoulder. Your eyes don’t dare move from your phone screen. You reason that it’s not someone you know, as they would have said something to you. Your hands shake as you put your phone back in your purse.

“Oh, sorry,” the voice trails off as he continues to walk down the hallway after he brushed up against you.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, without turning around, which is admittedly ridiculous.

As soon as you can judge his footsteps are far away enough, you make a quick glance behind to see if it really was him. And judging by the navy blue suit, it was.

Suddenly, the golden montage flows through your mind once more, showing an image of yourself wearing an old shirt of his, maybe one from when he was in high school for whatever sport he played, if he played one. Your feet feel the coolness of the wooden floor of the supposed home. The home both of you share? It’s so tangible, so real that you almost reach out to touch it. It’s right there...

Your head jerks yourself out of the vision once more, or rather the fact that you’re now faced with a white wall in front of you. You sigh a long frustrated sigh. I can’t believe I really walked by the entrance, how embarrassing, you think as you turn on your heels to backtrack. Why does this stranger have you so wrapped around his finger? No one else has been able to even come close to doing that. You feel your face with your hand, and it’s burning. I’ll go in there looking like a tomato, it’s fine.

You do your best to quite literally shake off those thoughts as you push open the dining room hall door. “There you are!” your mom says. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Come on, we’re going to sing happy birthday to Dad.”

“Can’t wait,” you beam. After all, your dad only turns 50 once, and this night is about him, afterall. You follow your mom to a table with a white tablecloth resting on it.

Stella pops out from behind your dad to approach you and whispers, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You resist the urge to gently shove her in front of everyone. “Yes,” you pleadingly insist, “now stop asking me in front of Mom and Dad, they’ll think something is wrong.”

She side eyes you with an attitude. “Fine.”

“They’re my girls,” your dad says with a smile.

You and Stella laugh while leaning into him for a quick hug. “Hey dad,” you both say in unison.

The room completely dies down, people could hear a pin drop. “Ready?” your mom asks the guests. The room takes a collective deep breath.

And so the melody of Happy Birthday rings joyously through the hall, you can see the mystery stranger out of the corner of your eye. Heat radiates off your skin, it’s almost like you can feel his eyes boring into you. It takes all the willpower you can muster, but you resist the temptation to look over at him all throughout the song.

When the song is over, the room breaks out into obnoxiously loud clapping. You, Stella, and your parents share loving looks and warm smiles.

Eventually, everyone proceeds to return to normal chatter at the one rectangular table of two that they’re sitting at, and so do you, Stella and your parents.

You pull out your seat next to your sister near the middle of the middle of the table and sit, fixing your dress.

“Ahem,” Stella says in an ill attempt to cover her suspiciousness with a clearing throat noise. Queue whatever accusatory question she’s got.

“Let me just set something straight,” she starts.

“Go for it,” you say as you reach for some water.

“It’s definitely that guy a few seats down, isn’t it?” She smirks. She’s got you trapped in her little web, and she knows it.

You may or may not have fought back choking on your water or pulling a ridiculous spit take on the nice white table cloth.

You lean in and harshly whisper, “Well you didn’t have to say it that loudly.” You glance over at the mystery stranger and see his hand wrapped around his glass as he goes to drink it. He has a thick silver ring on his pointer finger?

“Hello?” Stella shifts her head to selfishly cut off your view of him.

“Okay,” you sigh in defeat, “yes it’s him. Happy?”

“Very,” she says, very satisfied because she finally pried it out of you and got you to admit it. Someone else has you wrapped around their finger. She didn’t even have to know all the details of the montages to know. She could tell by the way your eyes glossed over and how your lips would slightly part like you were in a hazy daydream.

And you were.

“Who is he anyway? And why don’t we know him?” You ask.

“I don’t know, honestly. A little strange, isn’t it? Why don’t you ask mom who he is?” She suggests, but her cheshire smile suggests that she will somehow find out, with or without your mom’s help.

“But mom’s going to absolutely harass me until I say something to him. Just you on my tail is enough,” you say with an eyebrow raised as to say ‘don’t test me.’ And Stella knows you’re right.

“Alright, fine,” she concedes, “But why don’t you, I don’t know, talk to him?”

“I did,” you nonchalantly float.

Her eyes widen and her mouth forms an “O” from disbelief. Did you really not talk to people that much?

“Really?” she practically squeals.

“Yeah, he brushed by me and said, ‘Sorry’ so I said, ‘It’s okay.’” Okay, now you get why your friends and family get mad at you for refusing to talk to people. But cracking this joke was one you could not pass up.

Her face scrunches up and she exhibits the biggest eye roll you have ever seen. She opens her mouth to start saying something, probably to scold at you, but you open your mouth to cut her off first.

“Alright no, I haven’t. And do you know why?” As you’re about to get your thought out, you’re interrupted by a fit of laughter down the stretch of the table. Your eyes scan but freeze on the stranger, whose nose is adorably scrunched up as he laughs with multiple, yes multiple, people about goodness knows what. And there’s that other blonde that you still don’t know, laughing with him. You tear your stare away and focus back on your sister.

“Look, that right there. That’s why,” you say, anger burning through your chest.

Stella raises an eyebrow in her own judgemental manner. “He talks to people? You know people do that right?”

Now it’s your turn to return the favor of a judgemental eye roll. “No, Stella, I mean just look at him and the people he’s surrounded by. It’s so obvious that everyone wants him. Just look at that girl with him. I’m not the only one who wants to love him.”

Silence ensues between you two. She picks up her phone and shoots a quick text. After a moment she says, “Well, I think if you just talked to him, you’d be pleasantly surprised with what could happen. I have to help mom with distributing gift bags. You stay here,” she instructs.

You can only assume you’re not being called to help because Stella graciously told your mom that you’re potentially working up the courage to talk to someone that’s not one of your three friends or your family. How generous of her.

A few friends of your dad stop by your seat to say goodbye before they head out. The noise slightly dies down enough to scarcely hear some other conversations. You hear nothing out of the ordinary, just a girl talking about getting into her dream school to some guy. Your ears slightly move as you pick up on a voice that sounds like the one in the hallway earlier.

“Yeah dude, but did you see the fake out on the goalie on the second goal? That had to have been the best part.”

Out of instinct you open your mouth to interject, but quickly shut it and put it under lock and key. You blink in disbelief. Hockey? Did this man just speak on hockey?

You circle the rim of the coffee cup and stare at the brown liquid. In a different universe…

In a different universe you would have actually kept your mouth open, and maybe even squeezed some words out, too.

“Actually, that seamless stretch pass down the neutral zone from the defenseman after a pretty difficult forecheck set up the play pretty well. I’d give him a lot of credit, too.”

He’d probably look a little shocked, as do most guys when you interject your two-sense about hockey. But maybe he’d break out into a small smile and offer a rebuttal. Yeah, that sounds nice. Maybe one day…

Maybe one day you’ll be sitting next to him on the couch, watching a game while cuddling and brushing the hair out of his face. Oh who are you kidding, you’ll be up and screaming at the TV. It’s your staple.

A noise of someone dropping something behind you slightly startles you and pulls you out of your once again golden daydream. You finally stop mindlessly circling the rim of your coffee cup to take a sip, but only to find it’s now ice cold.

This is why you hate looking through a pair of rose colored glasses. It distracts you from enjoying things. You glance over at your dad who’s still talking to one of his good friends that lingered after festivities. You’re supposed to be celebrating him right now, but instead you’re literally stuck in this cursedly pure golden daydream that is almost too good to break.

You can see him. He’s still there, at the end of the table, chatting away with some dude. The blonde left at some point, though.

“Well, I gotta head out, man, good to see you. My sister needs help with packing her stuff for college tomorrow, so we’ve got a busy day coming up.”

Could that girl have been his sister?

“Congratulations to her on getting into her dream school by the way,” the guy says. “I talked to her when she was here earlier, and she seemed super excited.”

A wave of cool relief washes over your body, remembering the conversation about college you picked up on earlier. It was his sister.

“Yeah she is, she worked really hard, and it also involved a whole lot of crying,” he chuckles.

Ain’t that right, you think to yourself.

The table shakes as he pushes out of his chair. Your eyes remain glued to your coffee cup no matter how much you want them to move. You just can’t gather the courage to say something, and you’re cursing yourself for it. You don’t want to sit here and dream about him anymore. You want to actually let these things happen, for once. You want to just unleash all these swirling and sickeningly sweet emotions from your body and drown him in it. You want so badly to leap up and say something, anything. Step on those voices taunting you and mocking you saying that it could never happen, it could never be so it will never be. He’s so inviting that you can’t resist any longer. You go to reach out to him, but the door shuts before you know it.

And just as fleeting as he came,

He’s gone.

Fuck. It feels as though a brick is sitting on your chest, suffocating you. You really let your worries control you, and this time it feels as though you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. You just can’t believe you let it happen when your mind was begging you to talk to him. You always do-

“Shit,” you mumble. In your frustration, you knocked over the remnants of the coffee onto the not-so-white-anymore table cloth. Tears prickle up in your eyes, your throat closes, and your nose begins to sting. You quickly swallow these emotions down your throat and begin to use a napkin to soak up the excess coffee. Drinks have really not been your friend tonight.

For the first time, you notice as you clean that it’s just you left in the room, besides a few people cleaning up on the other end. You’re not sure where your family has gone, but you haven’t received any texts prompting you to leave yet. It’s so silent that you can hear some muffled chatter down the hall.

Suddenly, you hear the same creak of the door open with an “oof” that doesn’t quite sound like your dad. Your blood runs cold and you freeze mid press into the tablecloth. You glance up without turning around to see a lone jacket hanging on a chair suspiciously close to the chair he previously sat in. Your eyes widen and dart around the room, but you dare not move, waiting to see what he does. Even after cursing yourself out for ten minutes while cleaning up spilled coffee, you still haven’t learned to make the first move. His presence feels like a forcefield, you can feel it heavily pressing into your back.

But he isn’t moving to grab the jacket, no.

A pointer finger with a silver ring taps your shoulder.

“Hey,” the clarity of his voice rings in your ears like a bell. Your heart is racing so fast that it feels like it’s going to burst out of your rib cage and run its own 10k. You slowly crank your head around to meet his eyes for the first time-- face to face.

And you must say, his face is really pretty when you actually talk to him face to face. Maybe you should do this more often. You take in his golden features, and struggle to hide a small smirk creeping up on your face. His messy hair falls perfectly into place on his head, and his kind face makes you feel as though a mess of metallic gold swirls are playfully swirling and dashing around you both. You’ve found him in this lifetime.

“I’m Mat, can I help you clean up before I grab my jacket?”

[anothertimdrakestan]

Lovebirds Damian Wayne x Reader

Words: 2.8k

Requested? Yes! From a few lovely anons!

“So far i am loving your blog and went through like all of your writing🥰💖💖💖💗💞! I was wondering if you could do 'star sapphire corp reader' x damien please? Like them getting together” and “Could you please do sapphire lantern reader with your choice of the batboys meeting on a mission?”

LINK TO PROMPTS  -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

I absolutely love the sapphire corps! Thank you for these adorable requests! Dami plus a lover actually in tune with their emotions- hell they’re powered off the emotions- is too funny and so adorable! Also we are going to pretend that Raven and Damian aren’t a thing even though I’m using the DCAU teen titans alrighty? Plus it gives me a chance to ship BBRAE YEAHHHH! Hope you enjoy!

I’m so sorry it’s long it’s my first fic back I was so excited haha

“Deep breaths and English you got this” you stared at yourself in the mirror of your makeshift room in titan’s tower. Being the youngest member of the star sapphire corps you were the one tasked with the trip to earth, it made sense, no one wanted to work with teenage earthly heroes but you. Finally, a chance to meet a being similar in age to you! No more old hymns about the power earthly love, you were about to experience it first hand. 

Your mentor had called in a favor and you had been escorted to earth by none other than the physical embodiment of flirtatiousness, Hal Jordan. The trip itself was tiring so upon a midnight arrival you retired to your room without meeting anyone. Now, you could hear a bustling of voices, there was so much emotion radiating it seemed slightly overwhelming, so you opted to wait for Hal to come pull you from your room. 

At the familiar knock you shook away your nerves and flexed your hands into fists, feelings your ring almost pushing you to go outside. “Howdy miss l/n! Ready to meet your new team?” You were greeted with the cheesy grin that had apparently wooed your mentor, but always prodded you. “Good morning Hal, temporary team remember?” you replied, letting your aura be picked up by your purple light. Hal coughed awkwardly, “we walk on earth newbie, not many float here” embarrassed, you touched back down, clearing your throat as you exited your quarters. 

As you made your way down the hallway shouting grew, but upon you entering the room went quiet. With a small smile wave you scanned the room, noticing a green boy who was burning a strange looking food, two other boys who had froze to look at you but stood at a large table that made a strange sound, and lastly a raven haired boy who was sharpening a- sword? At ten in the morning? On the couch. The green boy came up to you first, “hello! You must be y/n! I’m Gar, there’s Jaime, Vic, Robin, and Raven isn’t here but she’s also part of the team! Nice to meet’cha!” Trying to keep up with the names Gar started shouting “SHE’S HERE Y’ALL” apparently to summon a woman who looked like the leader, as she was much older. Following her was a younger girl in a purple cloak, you quite liked her look and vibes, though she felt quite closed off. 

After learning more about everyone at a team breakfast with strangely prepared food you were with the team getting suited up as your mission to travel to Celea, a planet whose environment was toxic to any being over 18, making it a “teen titan’s mission” as they called themselves. As some of the titan’s changed into their suits and prepped themselves for combat you bonded with Raven and Blue Beetle as you had all loaded onto the ship fairly easily. “So why do you have a powerless human on your team? Do you not worry for his safety?” you wondered as you watched Robin methodically pack all his gear. “Trust me, Robin could take all of us out if he wanted to, he’s earned his spot on the team from pure skill and being a little bit of a monster- OOMPH” Jaime was cut off by Raven nudging him. You couldn’t help wanting to hear Robin’s story, as you were like him too- powerless but highly trained and craving to do more. Luckily you had a couple hours of flight to get to know the mysterious boy. 

The ship was large, built for a league of heroes apparently. This meant the team had spread out but you had stayed in the piloting area to assure yourself the team was on the right trajectory, apparently Robin was as well. “You actually know where we’re going?” his voice shook you from your calculations. “Yes, I’ve visited Celea before, but never to fight it’s people” you mused, wondering how in just a few years since your visiting a toxic group of manipulative outlaws had attempted to stake their claim to the beautiful Celea. “TT, not much of a fighter?” Robin mused snarkily, his flitted down to the ring on your finger. “Y’know your team here thinks you’re pretty strong, but I’d wager you’d be easy work for me” you teased back, twisting your ring around your finger as Robin came closer to you. 

(TW FOR BLOOD)

Sitting next to you he began, “my abilities come from my skill, my wit, and my determination. I don’t believe you can say the same princess” you scoffed, “you underestimate me Robin, this ring is nothing without me, not the other way around. Powered from my emotional control and my creativity, my skill takes focus and agility not just glorified muscle memory” you winked at him, enjoying the banter. He scoffed in return. “Yes and what can you do with that ring that I cannot defeat with my blades” he mused. This invitation was perfect. You got up jubilantly, started your lecture. “Clearly you lack certain knowledge Robin, hand me one of your so called blades” you stuck your hand out as Robin rolled his eyes handing you a bat-shaped blade. Without a second thought you cut into the side of your arm, wincing at the pain. “Y/N! What are you doin-” you cut Robin off, beginning to channel your power. “You see, true power is the ability to heal any cut your blades could make, to take was has happened and turn it into a place of love, not malice or hate” as you said this, the familiar purple tone washed over your arm, easily mending the break in your skin. You noticed it felt faster than usual, but wiped it off as adrenaline. 

(TW OVER)

At the display of your powers Robin was in awe. “That’s not all I can do” you laughed, creating a small purple hand that pushed Robin’s open jaw closed. He stumbled back angrily, mumbling about accepting your abilities merit. “You impressed now Robin?” you grinned, sticking out your hand to him. He closed the distance, returning your handshake. “Damian.” he said softly. You swallowed, Damian. It was becoming. Your ring began to warmly glow, Damian snapped his hand away wearily as you cooled your emotions. “Oh uh! Sorry, energy burst” you said, it was a half truth at least. Damian nodded, moving to go clean the batarang. 

The rest of the trip was short, upon entering Celea you’d divided, Damian was with you as the both of you entered publicly while Beast Boy and Raven entered covertly, planning to cover you if the diplomatic endeavors went south. Blue Beetle and Cyborg, unfortunately, weren’t allowed in Celea as their tech was apparently very old and triggered the planet’s defense system, so they stayed up in the ship was manning comms, prepared for an air fight. 

Upon entering you were taken straight to the capital, a sapphire corps was a rarity on Celea and they were all excited for your help. You and Damian met the governing leaders, explaining that you were here to help end the tyranny on the dark side of the planet. As you had hoped, they agreed, you could feel their love for their planet was strong, but that was about all the love on the planet as everyone was so young. It felt slightly difficult to keep a reign on your emotions on Celea, the planet itself was a safe haven for children, almost like a giant orphanage ran by beings that reincarnated frequently as to stay alive on the planet, the concept of pure love was foreign to many of the children and unharnessable. It all felt quite isolating in comparison to earth, a planet driven by intense emotions. 

“You look tired already” Damian mused. “I’m fine, just not a huge fan of a child-only planet” you responded as you made your way towards the large base, preparing yourself for a fight. Before Damian could respond you were joined by Raven and Gar. Their presence eased some of the pressure. “You guys love each other, it’s refreshing” you said, both of them froze, staring at you. “Oh uh, we haven’t really talked about that yet” Raven whispered, staring at Gar who was grinning like a child in a candy shop. “I love you too Rae!” he cheered. “Not how I imagined I’d say it but, yes, I do love you idiot” she huffed. Your cheeks flushed, “oh uh, my bad sorry, it just, seemed so obvious” you giggled, secretly glad you’d brought the two together. 

“Just a couple’a couples!” Beast boy teased, you felt your cheeks redden, glancing to Damian who was now suddenly interested in looking anywhere but at you. You felt your ring begin to glow again, covering it with your other hand. “Oh wow! Look at that! We’re here! Battle time!” you cleared your throat, setting the group focus on infiltrating the rogue base. 

The base itself was relatively small, it hadn’t been flushed out yet but the four of you were here to clear it before they had the chance. Trying to establish a child trafficking ring on a planet of only children was disgusting, and needed stopping before it got the chance. You were especially passionate about this endeavor, the reason for you channeling the power of love was when you lost your sister, that loss of love taught you it’s importance even at a young age, and after training harder than anyone you knew you earned the ring, promising to defend love the way no one defended yours. You would protect these children at any cost. 

There was no need for stealth as you had the permission of the Celean government, it was more of an ambush. As Gar shifted into a large tiger, Raven donned her hood, and Damian stripped himself of the Celean garb, you noticed his Robin suit, littered in weapons and ties, he looked like a hero. There was that damn glow again. Channeling it into your focus you felt the warm aura surround you as you lifted off the ground, ready for a fight. 

“Y/n should say it!” BB roared, Raven nodded in agreement. “Say what?” you looked at Damian. “We have this tradition where the leader says ‘Titan’s Go’ then we fight, and I guess you’re our leader today” he said, you noticed the light tint hiding beneath his mask. “Okay!” you said, positioning yourself, flexing your hand to feel your ring one last time before shouting.

“TITANS GO!” 

And you were off, soaring through the air while BB and Robin took the ground. You noticed a few scared looking kids were being held in pens, and you decided to free them first. As Raven covered you easily, you floated down to the kids, accidentally bonking heads with Robin who stared at you. “I’m so sorry! It’s just we always have to-” “Get the kids out first” he finished your sentence, a small smile dancing at the corner of his mouth. For just a fraction of a second, your eyes flitted down to his lips, feeling his gaze of you the moment felt like slow motion before you both snapped out. “Let’s go! This way!” you used your ring to break the gates as Robin herded the kids out to freedom. 

Glancing up you saw a couple rogues grabbing kids as they tried to run away, your heart stopped when you saw one pull out a laser blaster. “Enough!” you screamed, violet rays exploding from your hands as you easily knocked them out of your way. Leaving your post you flew up and began eradicating anyone who tried to harm a child. “No one hurts my sister!” you screeched, your powers growing stronger by the second as you began dividing your powers between knocking out bad guys and literally carrying children to safety. As the last of the kids were safe you escorted Beast Boy out while you and Raven combined your powers to crunch up the base, making it unfixable and uninhabitable forever. 

Feeling the adrenaline subside you glanced down to see a herd of children cheering, but your focus drew to Damian who was propped up against a barrel, nursing a laser bullet wound. Rushing to his side you quickly pulled open his suit, a trail of blood trickled into your hands. “Damn kevlar doesn’t stop their bullets apparently” he coughed. “Oh my god Damian don’t go” Gar shifted next to you. “He’s not going anywhere” you said, focussing your energy, feeling the pain and imagining turning the warmth of blood into mending, the pools of blood are just pockets of blissful love. 

This wasn’t a good time to tell the team you’d never healed a wound this large before. Positive self talk right? Or negative. 

I’m alone on a planet of useless children, surrounded by a glorified furry, goth, and stocked vigilante. No one is here to help you y/n you’ve gotta do this. You felt the wounds begin to mend, after all that focus you’d barely started. Damian you idiot! If you die right now how will I know why my damn ring is gleaming everytime I see your cute face. Fuck. I didn’t mean cute. Yeah I did. Okay, save the cute face. Maybe kiss the cute face if you save it? Yeah. That’s a good deal y/n let’s do that. Your head was rushing through a million thoughts, anything to motivate you to do the impossible. Halfway there, you could feel it. “Holy cow, look! The wound is closing!” Gar pointed at Damian’s chest. “Y-yeah. No help from you green bean” you mumbled. “Oh I know what’ll help!” Gar squeaked, running off. You turned to Damian who was just staring at you bewildered. “Don’t look at me like that when I’m literally repairing your organs bird boy” you whispered through clenched teeth. 

Then a surge of power came over you, it felt raw and unchanneled, you glanced up to see Gar mid-kiss with Raven, giving you a thumbs up. The love was short lived, but enough to keep your engine revving. Alright girl you got this, heal, then kiss, maybe. Definitely heal first. He has to live. C’mon. “JUST LIVE DAMMIT” you shouted the last bit, feeling the last of your power drain while the wound completely closed. “Holy shit I’m a badass” you whispered, before feeling intensely light headed. 

You woke up in the ship med bay, jolting up. “HE LIVED HE LIVED” you burst up, throwing a fist in the air. The other corps members would be so proud! Your first battle with death you’d won! “You’re right I did live, thanks to you” a familiar voice brought you back down to earth. Next to your bed was Damian, now in casual clothes with a little bandaging on his other wounds. “Oh! uh yeah, you’re totally welcome” you grinned. Awkwardly Damian scooted closer to you. “I think I owe you a certain gratitude” he said, emotions dripping in his voice you hadn’t heard before. 

This time his eyes snapped down to your lips, as he leaned in you felt like you were dreaming. When your lips connected you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, feeling lightheaded with pure joy. The kiss itself was soft, blissful and lovely. Damian’s lips felt soft against yours, like they fit with yours like a puzzle piece. Pulling away you stared at him shocked. “I could hear your thoughts when you were healing me, had to live up to your expectations” he winked while you covered your face with embarrassment. “Oh my gosh that’s so embarrassing yikes” you mumbled into your hands. You felt Damian’s hand slide under yours, caressing your cheek, drawing your eyes to his. “I thought it was pretty endearing personally, I suppose it’s because I was being saved by the most gorgeous, fascinating girl I know” he mused, before bringing you in for another kiss, this time more passionate, as if to show his feelings through a kiss instead of words. 

You spent the rest of your earthly get-away with the Titans, finding a sort of family with them. When you were called back to your people you promised to return in a few weeks, hoping to move your station to earth. They could always use another lantern right? 

When you returned to your mentor, C.Ferris you told her of your earthly adventures. She laughed, “a Star Sapphire’s greatest strength and weakness all wrapped into a snarky earth boy body” and you couldn’t help but agree. And with that, you were sent back to earth, this time returning as Dove, because every Robin needs a lovebird to help them along the way. 

[lukestauntauns]

Telephone (pt.1)

  Warnings: Lots of angst, arguing, yelling, drinking, both reader and Taehyung being assholes to each other, mentions of jealousy, blatant ignoring, intoxicated reader, swearing, mentions of “betrayal” 

Pairings: college au! Taehyung x Reader 

Word count: 2.1K

Listen to: Telephone by Lady Gaga ft. Beyonce https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pNcvmwxoK2g

a/n : This is my first time ever writing a fic! I have been wanting to for awhile and this idea came to me while I was doing dishes and listening to this song.  I thought it was time to put my thoughts into writing. ( I think I am going to make this into a series) I hope you all enjoy it! 

You and Taehyung had been friends for as long as you could remember. You grew up as neighbors when you were kids and were forced to meet by the doings of your parents. Since then, you two have always been with each other, until you got to college. You two had been arguing constantly arguing over nothing. You had so desperately wanted back the relationship that you had with him, and not the overprotective needy boy he was being as of now.

“Why do you constantly keep bugging me?” you retort. “You still treat me as if I’m a child and can’t handle myself.” 

“You are childish,” Taehyung says bluntly. “All you do is go out and party and completely act like I don’t exist.” 

“I’m in college, Tae. Do you expect me to stay in the dorm all the fucking time?! I’m only here once and it took me fucking forever to get in my sorority and you know how much I wanted to be in it. Why do you keep acting like you have all of this power over me? It’s not like we are dating.” 

This hit him hard. He wanted you two to be together desperately, but he didn’t have a way of telling you. It was always the wrong time for him. You were never around because of your sorority and all of the events you hosted.

Little did he know that you wanted the same thing. He was just so needy that it was starting to irritate you. You are 21 years old and don't need to be babied anymore. 

“You know what,” you start, “I don’t want you to call me tonight, at all.” “I’m going to this party and don’t want to speak to you. I want to just have this one night to myself and my friends. This is our last one before semester exams, and I would greatly appreciate it if I could enjoy my evening.” 

You could see the resting anger on his face. He was not one to talk down upon. Instead he always had to be the bigger person. But this time was different. He seemed to have an angry look, but his eyes were large and doe-like wanting to say something else than what his face was demonstrating. 

“Fine.”

That’s it? Fine? 

These words stuck with you thinking that maybe he would actually listen for once and let you have a good time. 

An hour goes by and you decide that it’s time that you get ready and you pull out all of the stops. Tae always thought that you looked great in black as it complemented your skin well. 

Do I wanna be evil? you thought to yourself.

 “Yeah I think I do.”

You pull out this gorgeous short, black sequined cocktail dress. You haven’t worn this dress since your freshman year of college and decided that it was time to pull her out again. You knew that this would upset him and you were happy that it would. Was your initial intention to make him jealous? No. But were you very excited about the idea? Yes.

You finish off the look with heavy eyeliner and a bold red lip. Platforms to top it all off. Taehyung always had a thing for when you wore heels out, yet you could never decipher what it was. You were pretty good at reading people, but he was one of the harder ones. Of course you could understand his basic emotions, but when he was really thinking, you could never actually pinpoint what it was about. 

 “Where are you going?” Tae inquires.

“Out” you say. And with that, the door shuts.

Just left my dorm, ready to get some alcohol inside of me. 

You text your best friend Ally while you are walking to the car. The party is located at the other side of the university so you have quite a way to go. She was the one who insisted that we Ubered there considering you already knew that she was not going to be sober enough to drive us back. 

Tae has been on my ass for so long and we got into an argument. Told him I didn’t want him contacting me at all tonight. 

You knew that your best friend always thought that you would end up together one day, and she had even pushed for you two to start dating. You alway reassured her that nothing would come of it and that you had been friends for years now. 

You know it is going to happen at any point right Y/N? 

You weren’t even going to entertain the idea and just decided that you were going to talk to her once you got there.

You two both meet and make the drive to the party. Once you get there, all of what happened beforehand has started to melt away. You are greeted with copious amounts of alcohol and people looking like they were enjoying themselves.

“You want a drink?” your friend asks. 

“Is that even a question?” as you already have chugged one Whiteclaw and are onto your second one. 

You knew that you weren’t a lightweight and considering that the seltzers were practically soda, you knew that you weren’t getting shitfaced tonight. 

You and your best friend were having the time of your life. This was a much needed outing considering everything that has happened between you and Tae recently. The music was so loud your chest was pounding. The sight of people dancing and having fun was amazing until… 

*Incoming call from Taehyung*

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” you sigh.

“Hello.” you say 

“It's late you should come home,” 

“Sorry I can’t hear you. I have no service,” you lied as you could hear him perfectly. You were just trying to avoid the fact that he was calling . 

The line cuts. 

You thought you just got out scott free. But even your friend knew that Taehyung was not that gullible. 

*Incoming call from Taehyung*

This call you decide to completely ignore his call because you are not going to let him hinder you from having a good time. But he keeps calling and calling. Your friend starts smirking like she knows what's going on. 

More time passes and so does the alcohol and you decide that it is time for you to check your phone. Right as you check your phone.. 

*Incoming call from Taehyung*

“ Will you stop calling me! All you have done is call and call me. I don’t want to think anymore. I don’t want to talk anymore. Do you understand me? I need you to stop worrying about me.” 

And with that, you ended the call. 

“Damn Y/N, you didn’t have to be so mean about it.” 

“Ally you don’t understand. I have 35 missed calls from him and 86 text messages. He’s having a fucking psychotic break right now. I am a grown ass woman and I can take care of myself. He fucking told me that I was being childish today because I went out to our parties. I am so sick of him. He’s sitting at home calling me like a collector and I’m over it.” 

You continue to drink and have yourself a great time. You and Ally are dancing along with everyone else and really living it up one more time before you are crammed with studying and tests. She mentions the idea of you guys dancing with others. You are a little apprehensive about this. It’s not like you were dating Taehyung or anything, but wouldn’t that be wrong? It’s not like anyone was to record you or anything. Or so you thought. 

“Come on loser, it’ll be fun,” All says. 

*Incoming call from Taehyung*

“I’m going to say this once and only once. It’s not that I don’t like you, I’m just at a party and I’m getting really tired of my phone ringing. Do yourself a favor and stop calling me, please.” 

You can’t believe you said that. I mean yes you did like Taehyung, but you were wondering if he had taken it the wrong way. You wanted him to like you as well, but with the way that he has been acting lately, it doesn’t seem very plausible. If you really liked someone why would you constantly pester them and bombard them all the time. 

Another phone call ended and another round of drinks started. You said fuck it and decided to start dancing with others.  There’s no way that you should care about what Taehyung thinks. He’s not your father. You are allowed to do whatever you want. As you’re scouting who to dance on you pick a target that will for sure make him mad in the long run. His best friend, Jimin. Was this a little devious of you, yes, but did you care, absolutely not. You had had too much alcohol to start weighing in factors of the situation. 

Since the alcohol has already started to cloud your mind it also starts to take effect on your body and you start to slump when you walk. The whole not getting shitfaced thing didn’t exactly go to plan. One thing happened after another and there were just more shots and Whiteclaws to be drunk and you volunteered to do so. 

“We s..should make our way home,” your very drunk friend burps out. 

“God you are a mess,” you laugh “You do know that we have class in the morning? Your hangover is going to suck and you’re probably going to end up falling asleep in class.” 

You always had a knack for teasing her and she did the same. You didn’t have many girlfriends in college as a lot of them thought that your humor was offensive. Ally was the only person who had the same humor and more trauma that could be joked about. 

“Yeah, yeah I know. Thanks for coming out Y/N. I had a lot of fun and now I’m about to crash. Have fun with your boyfriend,” Ally yells. 

You proceed to flip her off and prepare for the tredge forward back to your dorm just hoping that Taehyung was asleep and you could just go to bed without anything happening. You have already taken off your platforms so that you prevent yourself from stomping in. You reach for the door and to your surprise it’s unlocked. That had set off a red flag because Tae would never leave the door unlocked. You walk inside only to find Tae on the couch waiting for you. 

Damnit 

“Why were you out for so long? Why do you smell like alcohol? How come your shoes are off?”

Taehyung would just not stop the questions before you could even get a breath out. You had barely been home five minutes and he was just demanding answers for his questions.

 “You know what Tae,” you say calmly, “I don’t really feel like playing your games and answering your questions. Yes, I had some drinks and my head hurts and I would like to go lay my head down if that’s okay with you considering I need to ask for your permission before I do fucking anything.” 

You could tell that that hit him hard. He knew that he was being extra needy lately, but with no explanation. This isn’t like him. But he wanted your attention so badly, but the attention that he ended up getting from you was always negative. This was the polar opposite of what he wanted. He was pushing you away rather than pulling you towards him. He thought that by asking questions and showing he cared, it would make him look like he was really looking out for you. Instead it backfired. 

“My head is going to explode,” you say aloud. 

You knew it wasn’t a good idea to just keep drinking. But with the constant nagging from Taehyung, you needed to take your mind off of the argument and your closest coping mechanism  was alcohol. You didn’t think it would all hit you at once. 

You proceed to strip from your party clothes and make your way into a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt.  You try your best to hobble to the bathroom to take off your makeup. Once that’s done, you make your way back to your bed, take ibuprofen, and head to bed, thinking about Taehyung. 

[monikafilefan]

Love your writing so much! Can you write a New Year’s fic set in season 6 where they actually kiss? No Fowley angst if you can? Thank you

Thanks so much. This turned out longer than I hoped so I’m a little late, but I hope you enjoy. Takes place just before Tithonus.

——

10:02 PM: Mulder swallows another mouthful of Shiner Bock, letting the alcohol warm him from the inside out. He sets the beer bottle next to the other empty ones with a clink and the beat of the music vibrates along the golden table cloth beneath him. Laughter and muffled conversations of fellow agents fill the silence of isolation he’s purposely surrounded himself in.

He doesn’t want to be here. Not at this New Years Eve bureau mandated banquet, sticking out like a black sheep among the herd of Kersh-loving ass-kissers, and certainly not forced to appease the Deputy Director in the name of another successful year of wielding justice. He sure as hell doesn’t want to celebrate the loss of his life’s work to his ex-wife and Kersh’s errand boy he’s currently hiding in a dark corner from. Wielding justice…

What a crock of shit.

But Scully is here, and the loss of his near constant contact with her is something he will never celebrate acknowledgement of. Not ever. He feels their absence on the files like a missing puzzle piece, teasing him with its existence lingering just out of his reach. Yet as he stares longingly at her across the room in her black satin dress, drinking wine as red as her lips, and smiling with their peers from the bullpen, Mulder can’t help but smile in return.

10:38 PM: Scully turns his way and scans the room, her big blue eyes flickering from person to person. She’s searching for him, he thinks. He knows. He’d told her hours earlier he decided to forgo following rules forcing him to be social. And still she looks for him, hopeful, unable to accept he can truly leave her partnerless for even one night. She’s right. As he sips at another Shiner, Mulder knows the heat of the beer isn’t the only thing warming his chest tonight.

A slow song begins to play as the lights dim. His pulse quickens at the thought of asking her to dance. Of holding her petite body close to his. Of kissing her at the stroke of midnight. He stands, unable to resist the pull of her proximity a moment longer, when another man swoops into his eye-line and offers Scully his hand.

Mulder’s fists clench as an agent from the lab arrogantly claims her bare back with his meaty hand, sloppily twirling her around the dance floor. Her surprised laughter is as loud as it is fake, but she doesn’t pull away. She accepts his hand with a tight-lipped smile and promptly stares at her three inch stilettos instead of at the man attempting to woo her.

Mulder does the same while his nostrils flare with every indignant breath.

Turning away, he picks at the yellow label on the bottle until only the brown glass reflecting his scowl is showing.

10:55 PM: He hears Scully laugh again. Then again and again. He doesn’t know what she’s chuckling about or who with, but it doesn’t matter when she’s enjoying her last remaining hours of 1998. She’s having fun drinking and dancing, he tells himself. She deserves this. He wants her to be happy, always. He just refuses to watch someone else make her that way.

This time, when a high-pitched, unScully-like laughter slices through the sound of his heart thudding against his eardrums, his gut clenches along with his fists.

11:02 PM: One hour and four - no five - beers later, Mulder is ready to leave. To flee, more like it, when a thick hand slaps at his back.

“Agent Mulder,” Skinner’s voice booms over the music. “Glad to see you decided to show up.”

He scoffs, “I was summoned.”

Skinner glances at him, his heavy hand squeezing the meat of Mulder’s shoulder; hard. “You mean she asked or you wouldn’t be here,” he corrects, nodding towards Scully draining yet another glass of wine. “She wants you here, Mulder. I suggest you remember that.”

11:32 PM: Mulder does remember that. In fact, that’s all he’s been thinking about for the past half hour when he lost sight of Scully within the crowd. After dodging both Diana and Spender, three agents requesting a dance, and one persistent secretary’s offer for much more than that, Mulder halts his search for his partner and ducks into the restroom to break the seal.

He glances at his cell phone. No service. Goddammit.

The entire time he’s been looking for Scully, the sickening thought of her having left with someone else has weighed heavily in the back of his mind. He should’ve taken Frohike up on his offer of Mexican and movies and saved himself the heartache.

11:44 PM: “Yes, I do know I’m leaving before the ball drops, and no, I don’t have a date I’m waiting for,” Mulder repeats to Agent Matthews at the coat check.

“You want one?” he asks, smirking. “Because I’m outta here in ten.”

“Oh uh,” Mulder can’t help but smile. “Thanks, but I’ll have to pass.”

“I knew it. But hey, a guy can dream.” The man shrugs and hands Mulder his jacket. “Agent Scully is one lucky woman.”

“You’ve seen her?” Mulder questions, ready to interrogate the poor guy. “Did she leave?”

“Maybe,” Matthews says, chuckling at Mulder’s unabashed desperation. “But I’ve seen her walk by looking for someone special a couple times earlier, though. I guess that someone was you.”

“Yeah, thanks. Have a good night,” Mulder groans as he walks away, feeling more and more like an asshole as the minutes tick by.

11:50 PM: Mulder makes his way down the side stairwell and shuffles past the ladies room tucked away in an alcove at the end of the hall. Fireworks spark outside the window next to him and he can’t help but wonder if Scully is looking at them, too.

He sighs, takes three steps, and stumbles when a flash of red catches his eye.

“Scully?”

“Mulder, you’re here!” she praises, her cheeks flushed with wine. Her eyes flick down to his coat slung over his arm and her smile fades. “You’re leaving.”

He falters, shifting in his Wingtip Oxfords he’d worn just for her. “You know me, Scully,” he feigns nonchalance. “I’d rather pull out my hair than kiss the asses of the ‘powers that be’ more than I’m forced.”

Scully shakes her head and is quiet a moment before boldly brushing a lock of hair from his brow. “Can’t have that now, can we?”

He stifles a moan. The familiar feeling of her touch lulls him where they stand. “A full head of hair means that much to you, does it, Scully?”

“Mm…” She nods while his hand covers hers sliding gently across his scalp. “You do have great hair.”

“Melvin will be crushed.”

She laughs - this it’s time for him - and Mulder swears it’s the most beautiful sound echoing through the hall. They continue to stand in the hallway, staring at one another as her fingers dance through his hair, letting the soft melody of the muffled music fill the silence.

“So why show up then?” she finally asks, her fingers trailing over the shell of his ear, down to his cheek, hovering there. “Why come at all?”

The alcohol that flows through her veins, leaving her open and vulnerable deserves only honesty from him. “Because you’re here,” Mulder confesses.

“I am.” Her eyes hone in on his fingers twining through hers. “And you were about to leave without saying goodbye?” She arches a brow, pins him with an accusatory stare. “Or hello, for that matter?”

“I-you were enjoying yourself out there. You were…” he sighs, guilt washing over him for not being a better partner to her. For not walking out on that dance floor and showing her exactly how much he appreciates her. How much he loves her. “Scully…”

“Mulder, it’s okay. I get it, really.” She rolls her eyes, tapping his tie with a manicured nail. “Plus, Skinner told me that if you’re as smart as your IQ says you are, you’d be here to ring the new year with me.”

“Ha!” It’s Mulder’s turn to roll his eyes, imagining the AD just itching to dance with his beautiful partner. “I’ll bet he did.”

“I told him you were smarter.”

Mulder’s heart began to race at the husk in her voice. “And if I hadn’t shown up?” he wonders. “I have a feeling Skinner and every other person in that ballroom would give anything to dance with you tonight.”

“They asked to dance with me, Mulder, not date me.”

Mulder’s jaw clenches at that, his free hand dipping down to settle gently at the base of her spine.

“And besides,” she arches into him, amused and emboldened. “There’s only one person I wanted to dance with tonight.”

“Scully.” His voice catches when her sapphire eyes snap up to lock onto his, imploring him to say more. “I-you looked… you look...” The liquid courage swirling though his mind gives him the nudge he needs. He touches her face, softly tracing the slope of her jawline from her ear to her chin. She hums and he melts. "...Stunning, Scully. You look stunning.”

Her half-grin twitches higher. "Bet you say that to all the girls, Mulder."

“No,” he denies in earnest. “Only you.”

She nods slowly, unblinking, as if she’s always known. Her eyes are large and luminous in their dimly lit corner, the deep blue sea of them beckoning him into dangerous waters. Lashes fluttering under his gaze, she leans into him like a feral kitten, fierce and unyielding in her affection. And it’s a good thing, Mulder thinks as he leans in too, that he’s an excellent swimmer.

“You showed up, Mulder,” she whispers. Her tiny hands skim down to his waist and tug his body flush to hers. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me for that,” he begs. “Don’t thank me for anything.”

He palms her neck and she allows his hand to wander up into her hair, tangling the silky waves through his fingers. He watches her eyelids flutter half shut, her lips parting.

“And why did you come, Scully?” he blurts, curious.

“Why do you think?” she retorts, challenging him. Suddenly, Mulder knows exactly why she came. Why she’s still here, staring up at him with dark eyes and rocking against him with hardened nipples.

He forgets to breathe.

“Tell me,” he says, cradling the base of her skull and letting his forehead fall forward against hers.

“No,” she breathes while stroking the curve of his ribcage, nudging the tip of his nose with her own. “I’ll show you.”

Her eyes flutter shut and a gush of warm breath tickles his cheek. As he leans down, her cushy lips press softly to his and his heart threatens to burst from his chest.

Her mouth tastes of red wine and sugar - a tart sweet-filled sin laced with a hint of blush-colored lipstick. She tastes more satisfying than any dessert. She tastes like raw desire.

Reluctantly, he pulls his hips away from her soft belly when his rock hard want for her becomes impossible to ignore.

She whimpers with her arms now wrapped around his neck, tugging him down for more.

Mulder gulps and kisses her nose, her cheek, inhales the fruity scent of her shampoo. He breathes her in while keeping a lung full of her essence within his chest. The warmth of her baby soft skin beneath his lips makes him wonder if he’s having an out of body experience: an erotic X-File, as his soul quite possibly ascends into the unknown.

A sudden cacophony of cheers bursts through the cracks of the heavy ballroom doors. Mulder jumps while Scully clutches at his back, keeping him close. Their heavy breathing mingles with the chorus of Auld Lang Syne playing in the background as fireworks boom outside the window pane. Bursts of copper and cerulean stream across the ink-black sky and it rumbles the carpet beneath their feet, reminding him that, yes, his feet are still on solid ground.

Two hours, two minutes, and one kiss from Dana Scully are all it takes for his world to tilt on its axis.

“Wow. Wha… what was that?” he gasps dumbly.

Scully arches brow. "I would have thought that's fairly obvious," she purrs. "You asked me why I came here, so I kissed you."

"Yeah, I know that, Scully, believe me. But...” Fuck, he berates himself. Why does his conscience hate him so damn much?

“Shh, just shut up and kiss me again,” she slurs.

His eyes flutter shut. He wants this - wants her - more than his next breath, but she’s been drinking, he remembers. They both have. “Shit, I want to, badly. But I think,” he hesitates, no more than a whisper, “I should hail us a cab.”

“Mulder…”

“In case you don’t remember these last few minutes when you wake up in the morning,” Mulder explains further. “Or worse, you regret them when you do.”

“But…” Scully frowns, hiccuping as she sways within his arms. “Okay…” she sighs, rolling her forehead against his sternum and mumbles to herself, “Fine, but the cab’s on you.”

“Deal,” he chuckles, his love for her growing with each passing second. His lips brush against the crown of her head, his palms smoothing over her hair and down to the lithe bare blades of her shoulders. “I can do that.”

“Happy New Year, Mulder.”

12:10 PM: This year, Mulder thinks as he waves down a cab. This year will be different. When Scully’s pinky loops through his, he squeezes it in promise. This year, he will do better.

“Happy New Year, Scully.”

And next time, when he looks into her eyes and tells her he loves her again, Scully will finally believe.

Tagging @today-in-fic

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Kingdom Collisions XVII

masterlist; my links

CW: blood, death

Phew, when i first started this fic (way back when in august last year, i think) i didn’t expect it to become a multi-chapter nor did i expect it to go in literally any of the directions it went in. with each new chapter the boys cooked up something different and apparently more and more dark. nonetheless this has been one of the most absolute fun, exciting, and rewarding fics i’ve ever put out there because 1. i just kind of did whatever i liked with it (plot holes be damned) and 2. because the interaction i got from this fic was mind-boggling. Every plot twist brought a gasp, an angst gremlin, and a sweet supporter to my doorstep (i cant name anyone because you all swopped roles continuously). 

when i started writing this chapter tbh i was dreading it because how on earth do i get myself out of the sheer monstrosity that i dug myself into in the last one? but i wrote some words and even though they were all wrong and it was only seven hundred of them at least i had written something you know? but then i was at the beach and the ocean water was shoving itself into my lungs and the salt was stinging my eyes and i literally couldn’t have been happier if i tried and suddenly i just kind of knew what i wanted to write... or rather i knew i wanted to write and these troublesome princes knew how they wanted their story to close. yes, indeed, close. somehow, without me realising it, we kind of got to the last chapter. i truly didn’t think this would be it but with each word i put down it just kept drawing closer and closer to a close. and i can’t force this fic to be anything but what it is. So, my dear ones, this is the last chapter of Kingdom Collisions. thank you for coming along, i hope with all my heart you enjoyed it even a fraction as much as i did. I love these Princes so hard and Nish, Gretch, and A can tell you how sad i was to see them end. Nonetheless, please enjoy!

Since it’s been a hot minute since the previous chapter, here’s a recap:

Prince Jason Grace stumbles from the mouth of the arena and falls to his knees in front of the platform.

“Kill him Perseus.” A voice glimmers around him, leaking in through the ringing in his ears.

“Come home Prince,” That voice lilts, “Do not die so far from the sea.”

Jason looks up at him, blue eyes hazy, a dagger loose in his clasp. “Hello Prince.”

Percy steps down from the platform, and takes the dagger from his husband’s hands. It is almost sickening how easily he gives it over.

The crowd stomps its feet: they are ready for blood; they are ready for slaughter.

He holds the dagger up, making sure it glints in the sun. And then he draws his husband close until there is nothing between their bodies, not space, not even air.

“Let’s go home my love.” He whispers. “We will not die so far from the sea.”

Prince Perseus Jackson brings the blade down.

[image has alt text]

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

Prince Perseus Jackson knows he’s going to die today. It is not a feeling, or a morbid premonition. It is the cold, hard truth. If he does not the world will continue to suffer for it. And what kind of prince would he be if he allowed his people to suffer? His father would say he’d be a coward. His father did not know the meaning of the word until he screamed as a blade sunk into his chest. Percy wonders how a man made from the Rivers themselves, can die by knife. He supposes when you spend long enough pretending to be human, you die like one too.

All the same Percy must take his last breath today, before the setting sun has managed to hide for the night. Before the darkness can wrap around his bones like cigarette smoke, and keep him trapped once more. 

But first, Percy must kill his husband. 

The crowd is violent; their need for bloodshed a hyena’s cackle in his head. He cannot keep them out. He cannot keep them at bay. It drives into his blood, makes every dangerous drop slosh through him, as wild as the rivers of his father. As wild as the blue eyes staring him down.

Perseus Jackson looks at his husband, barely an inch apart, so close it seems no room is left for air. He can’t breathe, so it must have been pushed away, pushed out. Those blue eyes, as striking as the brilliant sky above them, are looking at him with so much… sorrow, love, joy, rage? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know and it terrifies him. He knows and that scares him more. Prince Jason Grace is looking at him with delight and it makes him want to sin.

“I will find you again, my love.” His lips brush the sensitive skin of his ear. He feels that beautiful body shudder underneath him.

The musician’s box echoes with the notes of the wind, a melody that rackets around in his head, bouncing off the walls of his memories. He has died to this tune many times. Died as a king, and a peasant, and a squallor, and a whore, and every form of human scum and royalty alike. They all bleed the same in the end. All die with regrets on their tongue, and the unconquering falsehood of love in their hearts, as if that alone is enough to save them. He has never been safe from death. But love saves him all the same. He wonders if he will die again.

“I will not be lost.” Jason whispers back, so quiet, so full of sweet darkness.

Percy slams the blade into his Jason’s heart and watches as the light from beckoning eyes morphs into a smile that surrenders the world. He doesn’t acknowledge the warmth at his side. There is only his Prince, his husband, his other half, his, his, his. 

“I will be waiting.” Jason Grace grins. Jason Grace dies.

Already he can feel the absence of his other. It is not a dull ache, nor a sharp one. It is not really an ache at all. Rather as if a veil has been placed over him, leeching the world of colour and light. Leeching him of any goodness. What is a destroyer, without his healer?

The Prince of Mare pulls the knife out of his husband’s chest and holds it up to the crowd. His smile dances, violence coating the angles of his face like a liquid mask. The colosseum responds in vigour, chanting his name, chanting the name of Princess Piper Mclean, chanting victory as if they’ve won. Dust begins to settle at his feet, settle then jump as they jump, then settle once more. And endless dance. He knows the score by heart. 

“What you have witnessed today my good people,” The woman in power stands in her box, surveying the scene before her with triumph in her brown, glinting eyes. “Is the beginning of forever, again.”

The people cheer, clap, stomp their feet, make the stone underneath them quiver.

A drop of blood falls to the floor.

“We have completed what our ancestors could not. We have made sure that the threat— ” She sneers at them; at him in his bloodied rags, and the husband still in his arms, limp and fast growing cold. “The threat of Our Downfall may never rise from the ashes.”

The deafening sound of celebration is a vice around his throat. He wants to rip the air from their lungs, make their joy a noose around their necks. They celebrate the loss of a life as if it were the birth of a thousand more; they celebrate the death of his husband as if they had won the war. But they have never seen war. And his past selves, rushing up to him in these moments, like reeling pictures, smile at the prospect. They seem to gather in his mind, grinning with endless terror and say, so very softly, “You think this is war? We’ve only just begun.”

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

“My people,” Piper’s voice is a lull in the tides, a blind comfort to distract from the storm ahead. “We have severed the wings of a phoenix so it may never rise again.”

The crowd stomps, he stomps with them. A fissure runs under his feet, small, unnoticeable. Blood drips down, down, down, into the cracks. There is nothing left for him here. He smiles, soft and small. It is a smile only he knows exists.

With a gentleness he does not possess for anyone else but the man before him he lays his husband down, wincing as the dusty platform touches that beautiful golden skin. But he does not have time to make it clean. To give him a worthy place to rest. He only has right now. Eternity is a second in itself.

And when Prince Perseus stands, straight and unburdened. He reveals the last piece in a twisted puzzle. For sticking out of his own side— the side his prince was pressed against— is a dagger of his own. One that is killing him slowly.

The people are still cheering, Princess Piper is still revelling in her glory. She looks ethereal up on her dais, every bit the goddess she craves to be. Her brown skin shines in the brightening sun, her black hair flowing down, down, down past her hips, swishing at her thighs. And the crown that sits on her head, perched there as if it was too scared to be trapped to such power, glints almost menacingly, jewels reflecting onto the people closest to her. To the woman at her side. Annabeth, sister to Jason, lover to Piper, and honorary daughter of Hekima, sees him. Sees all of him and goes as pale as the moon. She grabs her lover’s arm, points a shaky finger in their direction, at the blade in his side.

The look of horror on their faces is almost enough to make him laugh; it’s certainly enough to make him smile. He watches on as their plans unravel, remembering the deadly words Piper had said to him all those days ago. “Instead we will kill one of you and keep the other continually alive.” But what good would that do, if he had killed them both, if he made sure his blood was smeared across his husband’s wound; if he made sure his husband’s blood could not be used to heal them. He has become the destroyer they so badly wanted. 

Prince Perseus Jackson falls to his knees, at the symphony of a princess’s screech. And as he looks to his side, his fingers find the cool hand of Jason Grace. The sky is a lover’s blue. He closes his eyes. He finds his husband amongst the dead. And ever so slowly, the colosseum starts to crumble. For the blood from his wound seeps into the cracks running rivers of their own, and eats at the stone that holds the people, the power, the world. He has become his father. His mind is fill of his own stories, just like his mother. He feels the cold band on his husband’s finger. He becomes life.

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

The walls behind her turn to dust in slow motion. She sees particles fall, land at her feet in never-ending waterfalls. Her gaze tilts to the sky where she half expects to find it raining blue, as if the whole world would collapse on top of them. She can hear the screaming, she doesn’t known if it’s joy or fear. Sh doesn’t know if anyone has realised what’s just happened, if they know the true extent of her failure. 

“PIPER!” That voice is so far away, but it is one she recognizes. One she has loved since she was left on a lover’s bench ten years prior. “We have to go, we have to stop it from reaching the water.”

A pale hand gestures in front of her, to the crimson rivers speeding across the ground. They are the prettiest canals she’s ever seen. She wants to— 

“PIPER,” The time for shock has gone, and in it’s place is a violent need to save herself, to be saved. “We have to get out of here, this whole place is going to come down.”

When she looks to Annabeth, grey eyes bright with fear, she is struck with feeling so deep she fears she may drown. It wouldn't’ matter; she’ll be dead before she gets to submerge.

“My people,” Her voice is loud, blessedly steady, as she surveys the uneasy crowd who are only now noticing the red brooks bubbling up to meet them. “We must leave here at once. The colosseum is no longer safe. I urge you to go home to your famililes, to pack important things and make your way as far from the oceans and rivers as possible. Danger is here, and it is not a force we can fight.”

A thousand eyes look at her, emotions blatant on their faces ranging from denial, to anger, to fear, to the worst of them all, resignation. Those are the ones, she knows, who have lived through this before, in some way or the other. Whether in a past life, or the echo of their current one through stories carried down.

The ground underneath them shakes, making their feet stumble, their legs quiver. It is laughing at them, at the idea that they can escape this destruction. It has done this a thousand times before, it will do it a thousand more. The end has never been about them. They cannot escape it, no matter where they run, how hard they pray. And people are. Praying. They don’t know it is their gods who order this. Their gods who have no care for the lives of them when they can create a million more. In the end they are pawns to an endless game of chess. The first to be discarded, despite how hard they fight to prove useful. And Jason, her lover’s brother, and Perseus, her own ex lover, are soldiers sent to do their duty. Pawns themselves, maybe knights. But gods they have never been, and gods they will never become.

Annabeth’s hand is warm in hers as they race to their death. Her blonde curls fly behind her and Piper thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. And then the princess looks to her and she changes her mind. With each glance, each step, each squeeze of their skin, she changes and changes and changes. Until the beauty cannot be pinned to a single thing, until it is a tapestry continuously incomplete, of all the features that make up her love. If she— when, when she dies she will do it with this image in her mind.

And then they’re at the river, the one that feeds her kingdom, the one that runs into to the forest and branches to the five other kingdoms, before feeding into Perseus’s own and out to the ocean. There is no red tainting it’s glistening blue. They have time, maybe, just maybe they have time to save the only home they have ever known, the only one they ever will. 

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

Quickly, with a haste she has never seen, Annabeth pulls a single match from her pocket.

“Will you grant me permission, my love?” Her princess nods to the little stick.

There is only one way to stop a stream from turning towards a river. She nods. “For the kingdoms.”

“For the kingdoms.” The blonde echoes. She strikes the match.

Sunshine yellow flame bursts from the small head, and as it settles it turns orange, blue, goes back to yellow. Annabeth lets it fall to the floor.

And they both watch, flames dancing in their eyes, as the little match catches a dry leaf, which catches dry wood, which catches, and catches, and catches.

They clasp hands, look at each other. Piper runs a finger down a freckled cheek, skin already so warm from the blaze before them.

“Let us live.” Her princess whispers.

They jump into the river. The forest burns to an inferno behind them.

But there, trickling slowly, as if it has all the time in the world, is a single stream of blood. It creeps through the forest, turning already charring soil to nothing. The fire jumps over it, around it, beyond it. The fire does not stop it. 

A single drop of blood catches on a shard of blackened stick, once a match, and as the wind blows it carries the wood over over over. It lands in the river. The stick floats away. The blood spreads wide.

And two princesses, still hand in hand, frantically swimming for their life, start to crumble to ash, like the forest they had left to burn.

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

Perseus Jackson opens his eyes to sky blue, ice blue, saviour blue. And he cannot help but smile.

“Where have you been, my love?”

“Just had to take care of some things before i could join you.” He reaches up a hand to caress a golden cheek, warm and reddening under his touch.

“Are we finally free?” That voice is so soft, full of angled hope.

“Till the next time.” He sees that hope startle and shape before him, as if it can bend to fit around steeled will.

“What shall we do while we wait?”

“As long as we are together,” He brushes back a lock of gold. “It does not matter to me.”

“Might i suggest, staying here for the next decade at the very least?” A laughing reply, one that heats him to his bones.

“Your wish,” His green eyes sparkle dangerously, deliciously, “Is my salvation.”

“Wicked, wicked being.” Lips find his, press to him. It is so familiar, and somehow new all at once. As if the shadows they are made from need to get used to the light within them once more. As if they have not done this for a millennia, longer. 

“I cannot help it when i’m with you.”

“And you are always with me,” Those blue eyes set him on fire.

“Yes,” He says simply. He touches the golden chest, the heart within. His heart.

“What shall we be in the next life?” The question is soft against his skin, raising bumps across his arms.

“I think i shall be a painter,” He muses, lips falling to a shoulder. They trace their way up, catching on collarbones and the crook of a neck, and the dimple behind an ear. “And you, my sweet? How do you intend for us to meet?”

“I think i shall like to be your nude model.” That grin is enough to cause a flush through his form.

“And who will be our heroes?”

“The queen of course.” The blonde’s voice gets conspiratorially low, “I’m her favourite servant you see, and she cannot bear the idea of anyone else seeing me naked.”

He cannot hold in his laughter, the mind of his other half an endless stream of amusement. “And how do we intend to end it this time?”

“That’s up to you dear one.” The being curled into him smiles, “I can only heal, and you know i will only heal you.”

“You make me such a villian.” His expression is violent, and beautiful, so so beautiful.

“We have never been anything else.” 

He stares into the face of eternal love and is struck by the thought that it is all for him, that it has only ever been for him. He cradles a golden face in his hand, and with a deep unhurried breath, kisses Jason.

For the infinite time in his endless life, Perseus tastes fire.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@nishlicious-01 : to Nish for loving this fic harder than anyone, and for loving me harder still.

@queen-of-demons-and-hell : to Gretch for always being there even though were many countries, and many timezones apart

@leyontheway : to Ley for the endless and unwavering support and for making me smile no matter what

@sparkythunderstorm : to Lily for the continuous love and the wonderful comments

@comradefurudate : to avatar for the hilarious interactions and for loving this the way you did. Your comments made my day.

@aalikun : to ali for the theories and the comments that made me smile so hard my cheeks hurt

to A : you don’t have a tumblr account but you asked if you could read one of my fanfics and i sent you this one and you sent me back a 3 minute long voice note telling me every reason you loved it and i cannot begin to explain to you how much it means to me. i listen to the vn all the time. i love you.

and to every single one of you who liked, and/or commented on this fic: you are special to me in every way that matters and i think about you all the time.

[maddpopcorn]

It’s Okay || pjm

Pairing: Maine Coon!Hybrid!Jimin x Male!Reader

Request:  hiii can i request a jimin x male reader fic? maybe an angst/comfort hybrid au where jimin is a homeless hybrid who escaped from his abuser owner and is now trying to survive in the streets. the reader would find him and try to help him, but since jimin is scared and doesn’t trust humans, it’s a bit harder than he expected.. (i’d prefer a series but you can make it a one-shot or drabble or whatev boils your noodles lol) thank you in advance and have a nice day!

Summary: When walking down your normal road, you spy a long, fluffy tail. And when it connects to a bruised and bloodied up hybrid who immediately hisses at you, you find yourself trying everything in your power to bring him home….even if you have to suffer a couple of scratches along the way.

Warnings: Angst, lots of angst, burning of the skin with cigarettes, mentions of starving from neglect/punishment, punching, slight mentions blood and cleaning the wound, night terrors

A/N: Wow, you were my first request! I am so sorry it took long. However, I enjoyed writing this piece a lot so I hope you enjoy it, too! If people like this so much, perhaps I could make a second part (I already have one hybrid series I’m planning on making so it might be too much to make this into a series :)) Also, forgive me if there are any mistakes!

Jimin hates being a hybrid. No, scratch that. He despises it. He despises himself. Because of his nature, he’s immediately treated with little to no respect by most humans in society. He’s treated like he’s some type of scum on the bottom of their shoes.

Which isn’t true at all but who will ever listen to him, right? He is just a mangy good for nothing hybrid, after all.

He despises humans. After all of this time observing them, after experiencing them first hand, he has deemed them greedy, selfish and just evil.

They are all evil.

Without his permission, tears well up in his eyes, and he hastily wipes them away out of habit in fear of being caught. He blinks and then dryly chuckles, looking down at his burnt scars that dotted his arms. Who is going to burn their cigarettes into his now dry and cracked skin? Who is going to punch their frustrations out on him again?

No one, right?

He escaped them.

He escaped them.

.

Sighing in relief and with a smile, you wave bye to the last customer that walks out of the coffee shop. Immediately, your smile drops.

“Holy hell, today was busier than a fucking highway,” you groan, shoulders drooping dramatically. You let the broom slide in your hand until only the tips of your fingers are barely holding it up.

“Yeah, why do these people need all of this coffee on a Friday afternoon anyway?” Yoongi complains, dropping his head on the counter, his recently dyed mint hair covering his eyes. “It’s like they’re addicted or something. Damn.”

“Takes one to know one, Yoongles,” you tease, holding the broom properly again and resuming sweeping.

Huffing at your joke, he stretches, popping several bones in the process (that you may or may not be worried about).“Yeah but unlike them, I know my limits.”

“Hah, funniest joke of the year. Yeah, right, dude.”

He reels back like he has touched fire and gasps. “Wha-excuse me, mister but I know my limits.”

“No, you really don’t.” 

“Ye-”

“Yoongi-” you stop sweeping, putting your hand on your hip. “-you drank 5 cups of coffee in one sitting during exam week. And then, the next week, you kept chugging energy drinks like they were nothing so you could finish your ‘precious song’.” One by one, you start listing off all the times he has drank too much coffee and energy drinks. His body deflates with each jab at his pride until he’s crumbling in on himself.

It’s a hot minute before any of you say anything, quietly cleaning up the shop so that you could finally go home.

“Fuck off, pretty boy,” he finally says, middle finger in the air and face heating up. 

You bark out a laugh. “So you finally admit that I’m pretty, huh? Jin owes me $5.”

“You fucking-”

.

“Don’t forget, 8 o’clock tonight, my apartment. Don’t be late like last time, brat,” Yoongi scolds, adjusting his glasses. You throw your hands up, a cheeky smirk on your face.

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

You wave bye to your coworker as you exit the coffee shop. Humming to yourself, you begin your journey on your normal path to home. Mentally checking off your to-do list before you have to get ready for the annual hangout you and your friends have every week, you spot in the corner of your eye a fluffy, blonde blob. You turn your head, fully stopping and squinting.

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself, creeping up on the blob. It grows until it stops at a…

“Holy shit!” You yell, quickly slapping your hand over your mouth in disbelief.

A hybrid. A cat hybrid, to be specific, is laying on the dirty and wet ground of the alley way. His eyes are closed, and you timidly squat down near him to examine him. Matted blonde hair sticks to his face with what you can only assume is sweat and dirt which is also smudging across his face. His lips are forming a pout and he moves a bit, making you jump back in surprise. When he stays still after, you continue your examination. His skin looks dry and his cheeks are sunken in. Trailing your eyes down his form, you notice how worn and ragged his clothes truly are. And how big they look on him. Your eyebrows furrow at his state. Someone did a beating on this poor guy.

He whimpers in his sleep and without thinking, you do something stupid. Something incredibly stupid.

You reach your hand out towards him, to pet him or give him comfort, not really controlling your urges to get close. And that’s when you instantly regret it. His eyes snap open, and you yelp in pain as his claws swipe into your skin. Recoiling back, you immediately grasp your now bleeding arm, eyes glued to it. Three deep scratches litter your arm and blood starts to come to the surface.

Even if you’re the one that got scratched, you apologize.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, letting out a shuddering breath. “I should’ve given you your space. I’m sorry.”

“Leave me alone!” He hisses, shuffling far away from you. Growling, his entire body shakes as flashes upon flashes come back to him. Pupils reducing to slits and ears flattening against his head, he swipes at you again, 

You mentally slap yourself in the face. Of course he would scratch you. You invaded his personal space and reminded him of his abusers. You scared him. You back up, giving the hybrid one last glance, guilt racking every bone in your body for scaring the hybrid before you walk away. 

He doesn’t meet your eyes.

-

You rush home, your makeshift bandage from the napkins in your pocket soaked in blood. He got you deep. But it wasn’t his fault. It was yours.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you repeat to yourself. “How could you be so fucking stupid?”

Someone holds the door open for you as you slide past them, muttering a quick thanks.

“Hi, Mrs. Hags. Bye, Mrs. Hags,” you yell out to the landlady, rushing past people into the elevator of your complex.

“Bye, dearie,” she calls out. “Odd fellow, he is. Isn’t that right, Mr. Whiskers?”

Her cat only yawns in response and she immediately coos, getting right back to her knitting.

Stomping your foot impatiently, you give an awkward smile to the other tenants present in the elevator. They smile back, weird looks on their faces as they realize you’re holding your bleeding arm and you silently wish that the elevator would hurry the hell up. Sighing in relief as the elevators dings, you squeeze through the opening doors.

“Odd fellow,” One whispers out.

“Yeah, very odd,” Another whispers back.

Fumbling with your keys to your door, you curse in frustration as you drop them. Picking them up, you unlock your door after what seemed like forever. Finally, practically throwing open your door, you race to your bathroom, not caring as your door slams behind you. Dropping everything, you quickly get the first aid kit out.

“Fuck,” you hiss in pain as the alcohol seeps into your wound. Tears fall from your eyes from the burning sensation. “Ah, I’m melting, I’m melting…fuck, I’m dumb.”

After 10 minutes of grueling pain, you look at your newly bandaged arm. That was so stupid of you. How could you just invade his space like that? As you focus on your arm, dumb thoughts running through your head, your phone rings, snapping you out of your thoughts. Fishing it out of your pocket, you groan again when you realize it’s Yoongi. You still had time to get there, two hours really, so why was he calling you?

“Hello?” 

“Y/N, wanted to let you know that Joon got the stomach bug so the hangout is cancelled. Hobi and I are taking care of him.”

You can hear groans of pain in the background and Hoseok teasing. “Quit being a baby, Joonie. It’s a mere stomach bug.”

“Feels like I’m dying, Hobi,” he groans dramatically.

“Sounds like you have a handful, Yoongles,” you chuckle, putting up the alcohol and first aid kit.

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

“Okay, thanks for telling me. I hope Joon gets better. I have some stuff to do so I have to go.”

“Yeah, right. Bye, Y/N-Namjoon, did you just hit me with a pillow?”

You can hear Namjoon yelling “Cuddles, now!” before Yoongi hangs up, eliciting a belly laugh out of you. How Yoongi and Hoseok put up with their boyfriend, you have no clue but more power to them. Staring back at your arm, you nod as you come up with a plan to win the hybrid over. Or at least apologize to him. You roll up your other sleeve, making your way over to your kitchen. You’ve got work to do.

-

It’s a couple of hours later when Jimin finally retreats from his hidey hole to see a brown paper bag with a note attached to it. An amazing smell wafts through the air that makes his stomach growl in hunger. He slowly crawls forward, tail swishing in curiosity, and snatches the note from the bag.

I’m sorry about today. Please enjoy your dinner.

P.S, I hear Maine Coons like this fish, assuming you are one. Enjoy :)

-Y/N (The guy who is really sorry about invading your personal space)

He hisses in disgust, shifting backward from the paper bag. The note flies from his grasp and lands in a puddle, immediately getting soaked from the dirty water. What if you poisoned it? Or laced it with something? Are you working for…her? Are you going to take him back? It’s not like he’s never had the wonderful pleasure of starving before. She would make sure of that. He can deal with it. He has done it plenty of times, one more can’t hurt…right?

He sits there, just glaring holes at the bag as rain drops hit him, trying so hard to ignore everything. The smell, the wonderful smell. He clenches his teeth so hard he’s afraid he’ll break them as another sharp pain shoots through his stomach, accompanied by a familiar grumbling. He tries to ignore it. He tries to focus on something else. Perhaps the way his bones are shivering from the rain will do? No, that makes it worse. Makes him want whatever is in the bag even more. It seems warm. Warm enough to make him warm. He wants it. He needs it. So much.

Ignore it.

Ignore it.

Ignore. It.

But, a guy can only take so much.

The smell surrounding him in mockery and the nagging pain finally makes Jimin grab the bag, fishing out the food and digging in, without sparing it a second glance. He’ll worry about the consequences later.

He almost moans from the taste he thought he had forgotten long ago. The fish is still warm, kept in a container that keeps the temperature insulated and whatever soup you got (or made, he can care less) goes perfectly with it.

In a matter of minutes, the fish is finished, and Jimin is gulping down the remaining soup. He pulls back, licking his lips and sighs in satisfaction. His stomach is warm from the soup. He’s not shivering that much from the rain anymore. He actually feels…cozy and it’s incredibly weird to him. Something foreign almost. He places the bowl back into the bag and crawls back into his hiding place. Curling up, yawning, he thinks of you and quietly mumbles a thank you before falling fast asleep.

-

It is a couple of days later when you return, bandage wrapped around your arm. Jimin growls in annoyance and begrudgingly relief. You seem..okay from his scratch.

Stupid human can’t follow a stupid task.

“I come bearing a peace offering,” you smile, holding out two bags.

Jimin’s eyes study the bags and then trail up your hand and to your arm. Annoyingly, in his opinion, guilt racks up. You notice his eyes glued to your arm and you wave your hand.

“Don’t worry about. My friend Jin said it would be fine.”

You lock eyes for a mere second before he’s immediately spitting back, “Like I care.”

He averts his eyes, letting out a loud huff. You sit down, slowly sliding one bag towards him. He views the action from the corner of his eyes. What are you doing? He turns his head just a bit to get a better view and his eyes widen.

“What are you doing?” he practically screeches as you pull out your lunch for the day.

“Taking my lunch break. What else?” you tease, waving the take out container in your hand. “Would you care to join me?”

“No.”

You shrug your shoulders and open your container. “Suit yourself, buddy.”

You begin eating and Jimin rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and looking away. Again, he repeats the same mantra from last time.

Ignore it.

His stomach rumbles and if you heard it, you make no move to comment and instead, continue to happily eat. 

“Wow, this chicken is to die for. Compliments to the chef,” you groan, giving a chef’s kiss. “Sure you don’t want any?”

He knows what your game is. You’re just trying to rile him up to eat the food so that you can do whatever you want with him. No, not this time. It won’t work. After you leave, he’ll throw the food away. He is sure of it.

“I am positive I don’t want your shitty food,” he snaps.

You wince, putting a hand to your chest. “Ouch buddy, that hurt.”

“Not your fucking buddy either,” he growls in annoyance.

“Just slash at my feelings, why don’t yah?”

“Gladly.”

That is his last and final word. You finish your lunch, taking one glance at the hybrid and leave. Jimin sits there and makes a move to throw out the food. He hesitantly reaches out but backs away. His eyebrows furrow at his dilemma. On one hand, should he waste food like that? That would be wrong of him. On another, did you poison the food this time? Can he really trust that you didn’t?

He lasts a total of five minutes before he’s digging into the food. Maybe, just maybe, you’re a decent human. Just maybe.

-

It takes you weeks to earn the still nameless hybrid’s trust. Even then, it was only a small amount. At least you could sit closer together and talk about random things. That’s why it surprises you when he meekly asks if he can go with you this time.

You widen your eyes at his request. “What?” 

“When you leave, can I go with you? Y/N, please?” His ears are flattened against his head and his tail is curled around his waist.

“I don’t even know your name-”

“Jimin. It’s um, Jimin.” He blurts out. He clears his throat, face flushed, eyes looking at every thing but you.

“Jimin…” you whisper, the name so foreign on your tongue. “Pretty name. What made you want to come with me?”

“I…” he didn’t expect that question. “I don’t know. You just seem…comforting, I guess? I don’t know, it was stupid. I’m sorry-”

You cut him off. “Shh, it’s not stupid. I’m glad that I seem comforting to you. My answer is yes, you can come home with me.”

His eyes widen and it’s the first time you have ever seen him smile that wide before. You hope you’ll see that smile even more in the future.

-

“And this is your room!” You gesture with your arm. “I had to quickly clean it since I honestly didn’t think you would come with me so forgive me if it’s still a bit dusty.” You walk in but he doesn’t follow. You turn around towards him, cocking your head. “Jimin?”

Jimin can’t say anything. This is all for him? But, he didn’t do anything to deserve it. He didn’t please you. He didn’t let you use him as a personal punching bag for your frustrations. This is a trick. It has to be. No one is this kind to a stranger, especially a hybrid. A hybrid who hurt you. For fuck’s sake, he scratched you. Yeah, he wanted to come home with you and yeah, he did say you were comforting but he expected that you would make him share the same room or something. He didn’t know what to expect. Just not this.

“Jimin?” Your soothing voice lures him out of his mess he calls his thoughts.

“I-I can’t accept this room, Y/N.”

You must’ve pulled a face or something because Jimin is immediately tense, ready to dash right back out on to the streets.

“Why?” is the only thing you ask.

“What?”

“Why can’t you accept the room?”

He wraps his arms around himself, his tail joining them. “Never had this before. This much kindness thrown at me. Expected to..pay you in return.”

“It’s yours now, Jimin. No payment needed.”

“Why are you so kind to me?”

His question throws you off-guard and it takes you a minute to answer. You brush the lint off of his comforter. “Because you deserve it. I can only assume you’ve been through hell and back. Why not live the rest of your life peacefully?”

“Thank you.”

With that, you smile and leave him be in his new room. A couple of hours later, he joins you for dinner. Whatever you made smells heavenly. Quietly sitting down, he watches as you put the pot on the table in between you two. The bowls are already set and you serve him first before serving yourself. He mutters a “thank you”.

“Dig in, Jimin. I hope you’ll like it. New recipe I’m trying out,” you hum, taking a spoon full of the stew and blowing on it. He waits until you take a bite first. You smile in satisfaction as the spicy fish stew came out perfectly. Just the right amount of spice. He should’ve known better, really. You never wanted to hurt him in the first place but old habits die hard and he finds himself gauging your reaction to the food. You didn’t trick him before, you didn’t poison him at all, so why should this meal be different? Maybe it’s because he’s on your turf now. He waits and when he deems the food is safe enough to eat since you aren’t spasming out of control from poison or getting sleepy from a sedative, he digs in.

Wow.

You’re an amazing cook.

It doesn’t take Jimin even 5 minutes to finish his bowl and your heart aches just a little at the mere thought of him being hungry ever again. 

“Must’ve been good?” You tease light-heartedly. Jimin nods, licking his lips clean. “Want a second bowl?”

His eyes widen at the aspect and you only take his bowl to fill it up again. Jimin wastes no time finishing the second one. He feels all warm, fuzzy even and he looks down at his stomach in confusion. This is a familiar feeling. A feeling he had on the day you two met. It takes him a good solid minute, weighing the pros and cons of asking you if you had made that soup. Would you think it was weird if he told you he had remembered the fuzzy feeling? Would you think it was weird if he told you that that was the only time he had ever felt close to home? Finally, he concludes that either way, he needs to know because he cannot stand the stupid curiosity that’s nagging him.

“I..I have a question,” Jimin mumbles.

You nod, gulping down the remaining water from your cup. “Shoot.”

He looks around the room as he hesitantly asks, “Did, did you..you know, that soup..”

“Soup? What soup?”

“You know, that soup.”

“I’m not following, Jiminie?”

His face heats up at your nickname for him but you don’t seem to realize that you even said it in the first place. He finally blurts out, “The one that you gave me the first time we met! Did you cook it?”

“Oh.” 

“I just,” he continues. “It was the only time I ever felt..I don’t know. Nevermind- it’s stupid.”

“Yes.”

“What?” Did you actually think it was-

“Yes, I made it. I wanted you to have a homemade meal. And I was apologizing to you so I thought it would be a bit more..special I guess.”

“Thank you..”

You both clean the dishes, wash up and head to bed. Jimin is finally alone to just process everything. This could be a home for him. He lays down, relishing in the softness of the bed. He wraps himself with the comforter. It smells so nice and it feels so warm and so..homey. Yawning, he doesn’t notice the smile creeping up on his face as he closes his eyes, sleep taking over.

-

A couple of weeks have passed and having Jimin around is such a delight. Not having to come home to an empty apartment feels so much better. He helps you clean, he accompanies you when you’re watching something on the tv. He lets you ramble about your day at the coffee shop. It takes Jimin a while to grow used to being here. And not everything is so pleasant. Countless of times, Jimin has woken up from night terrors, from flashbacks of that place. And this time isn’t any different.

It’s around 4 in the morning when Jimin wakes up, his eyes flying open from the nightmare. Gasping for air, he looks around. Everything seems so hazy, so dark. All he can remember is him screaming for you.

Oh no, oh no, oh no. You’re not going to give him away, right? Right?

You weren’t anywhere in sight and he could feel himself panicking. He rapidly jumps up, trying to find the light switch or the curtains or something to give light. To give him hope that you hadn’t sneakily sold him back to her. He trips over something and reaches out his hand, grasping a cloth and pulling it down with him. Moon light floods the room and he curls up, sobbing and shaking. His heart is racing and he silently begs for you to appear.

You jolt awake at the loud “thunk” coming from somewhere in your apartment. You jump up, grabbing your baseball bat and tip toe out of your room. Hearing whimpers from Jimin’s room, you drop the bat and rush in.

“Jimin, oh my god, are you okay?” you ask alarmed, freeing him. He’s shaking all over, eyes closed and arms wrapped around himself.

“Please tell me I’m not there again. I don’t wanna go back. Please, please please..” He repeatedly mumbles. “I’m a good boy. I’ll be a better boy, I promise. Please, just don’t take me there.”

Without thinking, you wrap your arms around him, rocking him back and forth. “I promise on everything holy that I will never leave you. I will never let you go back there, Jimin.”

He sobs into your shoulder, gripping tightly at your t-shirt. His tail wraps around you, and you stroke his head.

“Shh, I’ve got you. You’re here, you’re home. It’s okay, you’re safe. I promise,” you whisper. After a long time, Jimin grounds himself and he pulls back to see you, worry filling your eyes and tears at the brim of them.

“Y/N,” he mumbles, diving right back into your arms. You only rub his back in soothing motions.

That was the first night ever that he had asked you to stay in his room.

-

The next morning while you’re making a delicious breakfast for the both of you, he stalks into the kitchen. You hum a little at his presence, asking him if he is okay. He hums in agreement and stares at you. You, already used to him just staring at you, studying your movements, continue cooking. He walks up behind you, ears pinned back, arms opening up.

He back hugs you.

You’re startled for a moment and it makes him hesitate to tighten his grip but when you don’t move away, just slightly humming as you continue to cook, he smiles, ever so slightly, tautening his hold.

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he murmurs into your back, so quietly that you have a hard time hearing him. But you hear him. He buries his head into your back, inhaling your comforting scent. “Thank you.”

That’s when you realize that the future for the both of you would be much brighter from here on.

[sweetsubharry]

Do you have any fic recs with like CEO/Businessman Louis?

Yes I do!! ^-^

touch me (you're my fantasy) by stylescantstop

Louis goes off on business again and Harry hates being without him.

or the one where Harry misses Louis a lot & sends him racy pictures, which prompts Louis to call him and it leads to hot phone sex. Exactly what Harry wanted.

it's like i breathe you by orphan_account

Louis shrugs, grabbing the smoothie and taking a sip of it. He’s not really bragging. But. “I’ve kind of always had everything I wanted.

”“Everything?” Harry asks, genuinely interested, his green eyes wide.

Louis looks at Harry, smiling at him across the table and twirling a curl around his finger. Not everything.

or the one where louis volunteers to teach high school students about the ropes of business and running a company of your own, but he certainly does not plan on running into harry styles.

cause nobody saves me baby the way you do by Wankerville

“Please, Harry. Please accept it. You need it and I- I have plenty of money to spare. I- I’m just one person to take care of, so its okay. I-”

“You called me as a prostitute though. I didn’t- I never got you off. I can’t just accept money like this, its-”

“Harry,” Louis sighs, “this was better than a fuck, okay? I liked this. Now please, just... take the money.”

or, an au inspired by 1D's new song 'fireproof.' where harry's a prostitute and louis is v lonely. that is until harry becomes his babydoll, and louis his daddy.

Cold Without You Here by trulymadlylarry

“Keep warm, Lou. There’s supposed to be a snow storm soon,” Harry tells him, remembering what he saw on the news earlier.

“I will. I’ll see you soon, okay? I’ll be home before you know it.”

Harry nervously fiddles with the engagement ring on his finger. “You’ll be back Friday the 13th, right?”

“Yup,” Louis says without hesitation. “Just in time for Valentine’s day.”

Or, the one where Louis is Harry's sugar daddy and goes on a business trip.

Sweet on You by dontlietomehoney

Harry is a student going to Uni for a degree in business and one day Louis Tomlinson, a multibillionaire and owner of his own record company, comes to guest lecture. Once Harry sees how gorgeous the man is, he can't help but ask him out for coffee. And things go from there.

Or, the one where Louis becomes Harry's sugar daddy.

No Love Like Your Love by Rearviewdreamer

When it comes to saving the world from itself and convincing rich CEOs of environmentally harmful companies to go green, there's nobody better than Harry Styles. That is, until Louis Tomlinson, his ex and former Alpha, is involved.

slow and steady by cabinbythesea

Breathing next to him was slow and steady, an all encompassing feeling. Much like when you're swimming in very deep water, he thinks. Your head becomes heavy with all the dense pressure caging you under, yet your heart and limbs feel light.

Pretty Please (With Sugar On Top) by angelichl

Harry is a sugar baby omega who cons rich alphas for a living. Louis is a rich alpha with too much self-control.

London Calls Me a Stranger by Thatscoolbutwhataboutlarry

"Hello, my beautiful, conceited coquette."

"Hi, daddy."

Or the one where Harry is a tease, and Louis is his new neighbour.

If Only In My Dreams by iwillpaintasongforlou

Louis calls and says he doesn't think he'll be home for Christmas, which is disappointing since Harry's wrapped himself up in a red silk bow for Louis to come home to. Luckily the world according to Louis orbits around his beautiful boy and he's making it home one way or another.

I'm Tired Of Using Technology, I Need You Right In Front Of Me by Phillipa19

Louis goes away on yet another business trip, but when he stops calling Harry to check in, Harry decides to take matters into his own hands.

OR- Louis is Harry's sugardaddy who has gone away on business and Harry feels neglected. Louis is possessive and gets a camera installed in their bedroom so he can check up on Harry, so Harry decides to use the camera to his advantage.

Got A Lot You Wanna Show Off Baby by Phillipa19

Louis had been in meetings all day, he should have known that Harry wouldn't be ignored for much longer.

-OR-

Louis is Harry's sugardaddy and his younger boyfriend is definitely not happy being ignored whilst Louis holds meetings in his home office. There may also be Harry in lacy knickers involved

you can take it off by blankiehxrry

Now, Harry walks back over to Louis and helps him up, planting a pink stained kiss to his left cheek. “You’d find me incredibly boring outside of this place,” he says dryly.

“I find that hard to believe,” Louis scoffs. Since the first day he met him, Louis has always been enthralled with Harry, both for his looks and personality. “You’re the most fascinating creature I’ve ever met within miles.”

Harry smiles bashfully and leads Louis back out towards the front doors with a hand placed lightly on his lower back. His emerald nails scratch comfortingly at his jumper as they walk. “I’m not nearly as glamorous without all the glitter and mood lighting. Life at home is a lot less skirts and gloss and a lot more trackies and takeout.”

“I could give you more than that. Just let me. Give me a chance, baby.”

Lunch Break by purpleeyestelllies

Harry decides to bring his alpha lunch at work and surprise him with a visit from him and their baby daughter. Louis gets more than one surprise.

drain the whole sea by brainwaves

For a great chunk of his life, Harry has had a passion for writing, a passion that turned into an aspiration, which turned into a dream he’s been chasing for the past few years, first in the States and now in a shitty flat in London. None of his attempts to get anywhere have succeeded, leaving him with weary bones and two dead-end jobs that he doesn’t enjoy in the slightest.

When he finds an unusual yet promising opportunity that could possibly get him somewhere and help him further his current failure of a writing career, he doesn’t hesitate to take it. Despite his boyfriend Sam’s pleading, he lets this dream bring him to the luxurious yet quaint home of world-renowned, best-selling author Louis Tomlinson.

Let's Embrace The Point Of No Return by  sweaterpawstyles

Louis was a whole new scale of beautiful, he was richer than Harry could've ever imagined, and he was the most powerful, dominant alpha that Harry had ever come in contact with. The only problem now is that Louis is also Harry's boss.

Louis believed Harry was an alpha, and had no idea about how he had lied about his status just to get an interview with Louis. He was in too deep now and he couldn't look back.

Or

Harry is an omega intern at an all alpha company. Louis is his boss. There's some complications.

A Distant Hazy Light by green_feelings

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.

I hope I answered this well! it was quite a broad prompt so as you can see this includes daddy kinks, a/b/o and other types of thing! If you have a problem with any of those send me another anon or a message and I can do one minus a specific tag :) make sure to read the tags carefully everyone :) stay safe <3 

[hogwartsfirebolt]

Hello there! I’m finally here with the third and last part of my favorite drarry fics I read in 2019!!! In the first part and in the second part I recommended 10 stories that made my year, and in this post I’m recommending 10 more that I absolutely adore. The banner art is by @spielzeugkaiser who was really kind and let me use this GORGEOUS piece, which you can (and totally should) reblog right here. Now, without further ado, here’s my,

FAVORITE FICS I READ IN 2019 PART THREE

1. The Company of The Rose - @lower-east-side - 31k - E - Six years after the war, Draco Malfoy has been restoring magical estates, while sidestepping his mother’s plots to marry him off and resolutely avoiding his issues. An advert in the Prophet takes him to a remote island, where a mysterious stranger has purchased an abandoned retreat. But the house has a few secrets of its own, and Draco will be forced to deal with not only his past, but the possibilities of the future.

We’re starting out this list with one of the last fics I read last year, and undoubtedly one of my absolute favorites. It’s gorgeous, sweet, breathtaking, a dozen other adjectives I can’t even think of. Stories that take place in beautiful, secluded places have a special place in my heart, and with a sure hand the author leads us through some of my favorite aspects of the trope: slow forming friendships, the feeling like they’re living in a world of their own as they get to know each other for who they really are, wonderful, delicious sexual tension keeping me breathless until the moment it snaps. The sex pollen element is also worked in a way I had never read before, with an exploration of what happens in the aftermath, addressing the issue of consent it creates. It’s just absolutely phenomenal, every single word of this. 

2. I could be wrong, I could be ready - @harryromper - 57k - M - At first Harry wonders if they’ve managed to destroy his vaults and are trying to tell him in the most oblique way possible. But when he turns the page he realises they’ve found a vault. A vault in the name of Lily and James Potter.The parchment trembles a little in Harry’s hand. He takes another gulp of wine. Harry Potter left Britain after the war and didn’t look back. Ten years later, when Gringotts discovers a vault containing his parents’ belongings—including their badly spell-damaged wedding rings—he’s forced to face up to friends and family who’ve grown in ways he could never imagine, a wizarding London rebuilt beyond his expectations, and the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. And if that wasn’t enough, there’s the entirely unforeseen problem of Draco Malfoy. Featuring pureblood wizarding traditions, ancestral magic, open mic nights, marriage equality, a diner in Brooklyn, and the return of Fleamont Potter.

Explorations of Harry as a character and his post-war issues never fail to hook me right in, and this beautiful fic takes us with him on a journey where he changes so, so much, and at first he does it by running away, thinking everything will remain unchanged as long as he doesn’t acknowledge it, which, of course, isn’t the case. We see him having to face his past, reconnecting with his friends, finding and coming to terms with pieces of himself that he forgot about, or never knew existed in the first place, and it’s absolutely exquisite. The tremendous amount of character development, the regaining of trust in himself and others, the way we can witness a love story blooming slow and steady, and see Harry grow into a confident, wonderful man. God, I have feels for this one, for every detail, every character and setting and emotion. It’s absolutely fantastic. 

3. What Real Thing? - @l0vegl0wsinthedark - 12k - E - They don’t cuddle, they don’t talk about their relationship (or lack thereof) and they certainly never fall asleep in each other’s arms.

This was my year of falling in love with l0ve’s fics. I had read some of her work before, but it was a few months ago that I found myself deep into her ao3 page, nearly weeping with the amount of emotion every single one of her stories stirs up within me. Picking just one was extremely difficult, but I finally chose this one, because the way she paints the relationship between Harry and Draco is masterful, their dynamic shifting and changing little by little, baby steps that become full-on sprints, single-minded and hesitant all at once, until we see them elbows deep into a feeling they don’t even know they’re experiencing, and it’s just brilliant, scorching hot, all-encompassing in a way that made me feel caught up in the whirlwind that is their relationship. If you haven’t yet read anything by l0ve, then I strongly, strongly recommend you start right about NOW. You won’t regret it. 

4. Teeth - @amelior8or - 5k - E - Potter’s been practically begging for it, for months, constantly staring until the air crackles with the intensity of it. Draco always stares back, until all it takes is a brush, a spark, before they go up like flash paper. The crash into each other is inevitable. Draco’s heart has got teeth. And there is nothing he won’t do to keep up the fight with Harry fucking Potter.

I am absolutely, 1000% weak for werewolf stories, and in just 5k words this one managed to enchant and entrance me. It’s hot and fast-paced and intense in the way I love, with their relationship charged with emotion and intensity that transform bickering into passion in the blink of an eye. The moment I reached the end, I went back to the top of the page and reread it that very second, because I had to experience it all over again. Amazing characterization, banter to die for and explosive chemistry are all present in this gem. I kid you not, I’ve read it about six times at this point and just keep going back to that moment in the showers because THAT DIALOGUE IS JUST- wow. 

5. Hush, darling - @magpiefngrl - 23k - E - Draco is in trouble. To get out of it he needs to seduce Harry Potter.

My god what a story this is. Absolutely unique, 23k words that felt like so, so much more because of everything they made me feel. There isn’t a single line of dialogue in this story that doesn’t feel purposeful, the characterizations constructed with such skill that every step the characters take rings true to their essence and gives us another clue to add to the puzzle that is Harry Potter, vulnerable man, powerful man, and Draco Malfoy, in all his darkness and his light. It also features some of the best sex scenes I have read, EVER. I could go on and on about this one, so let me just refer you to my long, individual rec for some more flailing. 

6. The Pirate and the Prince - @nerdherderette - 49k - E - Draco can't believe that fate and circumstance have made him a stowaway on the Master of Death's ship. He doesn't know what's worse: the dread pirate's legendary vendetta against the aristocracy, or the fact that his captor is the most infuriating yet irrefutably fascinating man Draco has ever met.

YES!!!!! YES!!! The moment I saw the cover art for this fic on tumblr my entire being just screamed YES, and it was everything I could’ve hoped for and more. Listen, there is nothing I love more than fics where I get to see Harry as a powerful, ruggedly handsome man who’s not afraid of getting his hands dirty, and in here there’s some of that and MORE, because he’s a freaking PIRATE. And not only did I adore that aspect of it, but the writing pulled me right in, the setting so vibrant I could feel it in my bones, and I just genuinely enjoyed every second of reading this so, so much. There’s ships and adventure and fighting for what’s right, there’s lovely kisses, heated kisses, secret identities and parrot Hedwig. Just, all in all, a great freaking time. 

7. Falling for a Golden Boy - @rockmarina - 44k - E - Merlin. Why couldn’t Draco have moved to a forgotten village in the Alps? He could have turned into a shepherd, learned to make his own damn cheese and given up his damn magic. But no, he’d had to come back to his Eighth year, hadn’t he? And this was his life now. Draping himself over Potter to hear words from him that he knew Potter wouldn’t ever mean.Great. The school year ahead of him looked simply great.“All I know is—when I’m with you, I…” Potter, the heathen, grunted when he read the rest of his line. “Do I really need to say this?”“What, scared of believing your own words, Scarhead?” Draco spat.“Boys,” O’Neill warned them.“All I—all I know is you’re the most amazing person with weak ankles that I've ever met, Meg.” Potter scowled. He was blushing again. “And when I’m with you, I feel less alone.”

My favorite eight year Drarry of all time, probably. I had never before experienced such a beautiful balance of the aftermath of the horrifying events of the war and how they impacted each character, and the light feeling of youthful fun. There are so, so many things to love in the 44k words that make up this masterpiece, so many details that warmed my heart and made me melt inside, so many moments that had me laughing or clutching my chest. In here, you’ll find quite a lot of Hercules references, wonderful teachers, drama club, healing, characters learning to trust, learning to love, learning to cope, beautiful friendships, hopeful romance. It is everything. I talked more about this fic in this individual rec, and I will absolutely talk MORE about it if given the chance. Everyone should read this. 

8. Tease Crossed, Eyes Dotted With A Little Heart - @diligent-thunder - 18k - M -  Draco's a curse-breaker, Harry's an Auror, and they're... something? Maybe? It depends. Harry definitely wants to get laid, Draco wants to follow procedure, and their work wives just want them to stop hiding from the truth. 

I hope you’re not sick of my rambling yet because oooooh boy, THIS ONE. It’s funny, in the way that makes you cover your mouth because you’re about to burst out laughing on the bus, it’s hot, in that casual way that makes you clear your throat and shift your phone just a little, just so the screen can’t be seen by the person sitting beside you because like HELL are you going to stop reading now, it’s sweet, in the way that makes you smile so hard your cheeks hurt, and it’s so detailed and all around so, so much fun to read, in the way that grips you and doesn’t let you go, only to release you when it’s over so you can go and recommend it to your friends, IT’S. SO. GOOD. Real quick: auror + cursebreaker pairing, are-they-friends-with-benefits-or-more, guess-they’d-have-to-actually-TALK-to-know-that, teasing each other in public, getting trapped together for a bit there, powerful female characters, should you guys really be flirting right now? and MORE. Listen, just go read it now and thank me later. 

9. That which hurts (and is desired) - @shealwaysreads - 19k - E - Draco was lying still, and pale, on a bed in a private room in St Mungo’s. The sheets were white, clean, enchanted against stains, vanishing the blood that kept spilling out of him. He hadn’t moved in two days. Not a twitch of his elegant fingers. Not a blink of his fierce eyes. Harry couldn’t even see the faint flutter of his pulse in his throat from where he stood at the foot of the bed, helpless, impotent, furious.

This fic is written so, so beautifully that it aches and leaves such an impression that, thinking back on it, every emotion hits me just as hard as it did when I was reading it. Everything Harry felt, I felt, every moment where he found himself just a little bit more in love with Draco, I was there, every moment of his frustration when Draco is hit with a curse nobody can decipher, I was there for it. With non-linear storytelling, it is evocative, a masterclass in narration, pacing, characterization and beautiful, lyrical writing. I nearly have no words for it. It features: auror partners that work together seamlessly, a dash of pining, a helping of very, very hot sex, and a love story that feels soft like a dream and thrilling like a race. This was the very last story I read in 2019, and I could not have ended the year on a better note. Definitely check this one out.

10. For Thine Is The Kingdom - @kedavranox - 66k - E - On a secret mission, Draco is Turned. With no memory of what happened, he learns that to save his missing Auror partner and regain what he’s lost, he must uncover the long-buried secrets of the vampire covens. To do that, Draco must open his mind and heart to what he has become, the new-found family that surrounds him, and the man who has remained steadfast at his side through it all.Harry spent five years avoiding the man he fell in love with, but when Draco needs his help, he cannot refuse. As they race against the clock to find Draco’s partner, Harry discovers that the bond they share is nothing to hide from, and that he'll never outrun the pace of his own heart.

And last but absolutely not least, there’s this freaking diamond of a story. I swear I want to squeal whenever I remember it. I’ll be brief: it is one of my absolute favorite fics of all time. In here, there’s vampires, unspeakables, a big investigation, wonderful side characters and information given in small little doses as we learn alongside the characters and piece together an entire picture. It’s dazzling, incredibly detailed in every way, with shades to each character and nuances to every interaction and bit of magic we get to see. I feel like anything I can say is not enough, I can never do this story justice. I have tried before, and written the gushiest individual fic rec of my LIFE but just- I honestly have no more words to express how much I think everyone needs to read this. Please, check that rec out, please, check this story out. There is absolutely nothing like it.

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And that wraps it for 2019! Thank you to all who take the time to check out my lists, and THANK YOU specially if you give these incredible stories a chance, because they deserve all the love in the world. Once again: All the way from here, behind a username and a few tumblr posts, I can honestly say that these 30 stories made my year. I hope they can make yours, too ❤️ If you ever want to discuss these (for tag concerns or plain flailing) (or any story really) my DM’s are always open!!!